


Run Away With Me

by NPP6



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: "The Adventures of Tinynette Chibidrien and Minichlo", "Tiny Genius Marinette", Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Anarka Raised Some of These Kids and Helped With the Others and it Shows, And Now There's a Ghost, Audrey Bourgeois' A+ Parenting, Child logic, Gabe's Trying He's Just Not Good at This, Gabriel's Done, Growing Up, Growing Up Sucks Sometimes, Growing Up Together, Harpoon Guns Are So Acceptable Home Defense Implements, Haunting, I Don't /Mean/ to Keep Putting Background Crossovers in They Just Keep Happening, If Any of These Tags Look Related Then They Probably Are, Lots and Lots of Child Logic, Magic Swords, More Heroes than Just the Miraculous, More Magic than Just the Miraculous, Oh Look There're Identity Shenanigans After All They're Just With the Wrong Characters, Preemptive Chloe Redemption?, Protective Luka Couffaine, Rose Has a Sword, Sabrina Starts a Cult, Shenanigans of a Different Sort, The Ghost is Pissed, These Kids Need Better Adults, Time Shenanigans, Tom and Sabine Can Only Do So Much, parenting is hard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 40,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22621423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NPP6/pseuds/NPP6
Summary: Everyone knows the story.Child gets upset with parents (Who are eventually shown to not be very unreasonable at all because MORALS), child runs away from home (Or a close enough facsimile to fit the author's needs at least), child realizes that life on their own isn't as easy as they thought it would be (Especially when the plot is specifically contrived to be against them), which prompts child to either return home on their own or be rescued (Invariably resulting in an oversaturated supersaccharine ending where the reader is soundly beaten round the head with both premise and moral to thoroughly indoctrinate them to the concepts of obedience and submission), and everyone lives "happily" ever after (exactly the way they're told to).In most versions of reality where Adrien Agreste runs away from home, it's a story he winds up living out until he tries again at thirteen when he decides to go to school. Sometimes though, rarely, but sometimes, the story changes when he meets a baker's daughter.The thing about all those cardboard cutout runaways? None of them had supernatural Luck on their side.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Chloé Bourgeois, Chloé Bourgeois/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 132
Kudos: 283





	1. Chapter 1

Two children tumbled tails over teakettles down a set of stairs and crashed into a set of bushes at the bottom.

Adrien shook his head and tried to get up only to find he was pinned. Specifically, the dark-haired girl he’d slammed into at the top of the stairs had would up on top of him.

“Adrien!”

He flinched and turned towards Nathalie’s voice out of reflex… only to find the bushes they’d just come through in his way. Looking back up, he saw the girl opening her mouth to say something and reacted on instinct, throwing himself up to clap his hands over her mouth. Naturally this overbalanced them and they took another small tumble, this time winding up with him on top.

“Adrien!”

Repeated calls filtered through the crowd noise before Nathalie seemed to get further away. With a sigh of relief, Adrien sat up straight and pulled his hands from the girl’s mouth, getting ready to apologize only to pause when he realized that she was _grinning_ up at him, her blue eyes shining.

“Are you running away too?” she whispered.

Slowly he nodded.

Her smile widened (He wouldn’t have thought it _could_ ). “That’s great! We can both run away together then. I’m Marinette!”

“…Adrien.” Were all people outside The Mansion like this girl?

“Nice to meet you Adrien. I was gonna run away to my friend Nino’s. You wanna come with?”

Umm… “…Are you sure that’s alright? Nino and I don’t know each other.”

Marinette visibly went to say yes, paused, then slumped. “Right, I can’t invite you over to someone else’s house, that would be rude.” She let out a huff, and Adrien couldn’t help but giggle at the whistling sound her missing front tooth made.

She shot him a pout at that.

* * *

It was all one long adventure after that. No bedtimes, no grown-ups, no _rules_. Sleeping in park trees and hidden corners when they were tired, and exploring the city when they were bored, and somehow Marinette always knew how to get food when they were hungry, and they only time they’d run into a mean person had been in an abandoned building and the floor had broken under him.

It was fun. And no matter what, Adrien knew he and Marinette would be friends forever.

* * *

Adrien was grinning and laughing and panting. They had run into one of Marinette’s friends from daycare at a park, and Kim had invited them over to his house. It had been fun until Kim’s mom came home, and then they’d had to escape while she ducked into the hall to call Marinette’s parents.

They kept running for a while, then played until Kim wandered off. After that Adrien and Marinette went back to exploring and chatting. Adrien mentioned he was feeling guilty that his parents might be worried. One trip to the library to look his parents up in the phone book later, they were on their way to a hotel so Adrien could call his parents while Marinette tried to get them a room.

* * *

“Hello?”

“Hi Mom!”

“ADRIEN!?” Every eye in the room turned to Emilie Agreste. “Adrien, where are you?”

“Um… I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you that…”

“Adrien honey, are you alright?”

“Oh! Yeah! That’s why I called! I wanted to let you know that I’m having a lot of fun with Marinette and you don’t need to worry!”

Emilie’s blood ran cold. “Adrien sweetheart, you need to tell me–”

“Whoops, gotta go Mom, we made the hotel people mad. Loveyoubye!”

The line went dead.

* * *

Jackson couldn’t help but smile at the two kids who seemed to be enamored with his old Polaroid. There was just something so genuine about them. And when they shyly asked him to take their picture, well… it’s not like cutting short his vacation album by one photo actually put him out very much.

* * *

_Maman and Papa_

_Hi! It’s Marinette! I’m doing okay. I would have been home by now, but Adrien can’t go home. His parents don’t even let him have food! I’m lucky I have good parents like you, even if you are too busy for me some times. It’s still okay if I take some of the leftovers, right?_

_Also, Adrien lost a tooth last week, but the Tooth Fairy can’t find us while we’re running away. I guess that’s a good thing since that probly means we’re really good at hiding. Please have his parents put it under his pillow?_

_– Love, Marinette_

Sabine gently put the note (written in glittery crayon) back down on the counter next to the mentioned tooth and picked up the photograph that had been with them. Her daughter had her arm thrown around the shoulder of a green-eyed blonde, a half-dozen band-aids between them as they both waved and gave the camera gap-toothed grins.

* * *

Roger Raincomprix took a moment to school his expression before he entered the room. Hopefully he’d be able to get through this with a straight face. “M. & Mme. Agreste, thank you for coming in. There have been some developments in your son’s case. Good news first, we’ve identified his kidnapper as one Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” He set a copy of the photograph on the table.

“Ohmygoshshe’sadorable!”

While Emilie Agreste cooed over the picture of the two children, Gabriel stiffened. “And the bad news?”

The man who had entered with Roger spoke up. “M. & Mme. Agreste, my name is Antoine Delacour. I work with ONED. Mlle. Dupain-Cheng made some allegations when she sent her parents this picture which are… troubling. Let’s discuss the circumstances that led up to Adrien’s running away, shall we?”

* * *

The pair had been on the run for almost a month before their combined luck ran out. They were in another abandoned building when they ran into a mean man again, only this time he had two friends. They tried to grab Marinette and Adrien tried to protect her and then it was all ducking and dodging and tipping a chair to trip that one and diving between the other one’s legs and the building falling apart around them and running and jumping and _moving_.

And then they were out on the street and Adrien’s arm was bleeding where he’d skinned it sliding down a railing. Marinette looked it over, sighed, and slumped.

“Marinette?” She looked up at him. “Am I gonna be alright?”

She blinked at him before narrowing her eyes and nodding. “I promise.”

And then she flagged down a taxi and Adrien wasn’t sure what she told the driver, but he took them to a Hospital, and the doctors were nice, even if they did give him a shot, and he wound up taking a nap and woke up with Marinette curled up against him and his parents were there and so were a big man and a woman who looked kind of like a grown-up Marinette, and a couple police officers, and–

“Uh-oh”

Adrien looked to his side to see that Marinette had woken up. Unfortunately, she’d drawn everyone else’s attention too.

“We’re both alright now?” Adrien tried.

This was, evidently, not the right thing to open with.


	2. Chapter 2

There was a lot of talking after that. At least three of the adults had to explain to Marinette why it was not acceptable to threaten M. Agreste with bodily harm (No matter how adorable it was). Mixed in there somewhere was an explanation that vegetables did in fact qualify as food and just because Adrien was mostly fed salad at home did not in fact mean that he wasn’t getting fed.

One of the pediatricians overheard that bit and the Agrestes were promptly forced to sit through a lengthy impromptu presentation on child nutrition. Marinette was radiating smug the entire time.

After that there were several more conversations, the children were pried off each other, Marinette extracted a promise from Adrien to call her, the crowbar and car jack were returned whence they came, and everyone went home.

* * *

It was three days before Marinette started to worry. Her parents had been too relieved to _really_ punish her, it was basically just extra chores that she had to do _with_ them (Given that she’d originally run off because they weren’t paying enough attention to her, this also had the benefit of solving the original problem). But it had been three days. And that was _forever_.

And Adrien still hadn’t called her.

It didn’t make sense, unless…

The silly boy had forgotten her phone number. She’d thought she’d told it to him enough that he’d remember, but then again, he’d forgotten his _own_ phone number too, so he must not be very good at phone numbers.

She’d just have to call him instead.

* * *

Sabine was willing to admit to herself that she was slightly worried. Every day for the past week, her little Marinette had gotten out the phone book, called the Agrestes, and left a message (presumably with a member of their staff) asking Adrien to call her back.

No response.

And then today had happened. Marinette had dialed the mansion this morning from memory, left her message, and then sat there staring at the phone.

For ten hours.

She’d loudly protested any attempt to get her to move, insisted on eating in the hallway so she could watch for the slightest twitch, and made at least one of her parents take her place on guard duty the few times she’d needed to use the restroom.

Sabine rested a hand on her daughter’s shoulder, startling the poor girl. “Marinette sweetheart, I don’t think he’s going to call tonight.”

Marinette blinked at Sabine, bounced her gaze between the phone and her mother a few times, and then gave the phone a firm nod. The girl stood, smoothed out her skirt in a way that was obviously meant to be grown-up, kissed her mother’s cheek and marched off to get ready for bed.

Sabine watched her go before turning a tired look of her own onto the telephone. It was later than politeness would allow tonight, but tomorrow she would have to make a call of her own.

She just hoped she wouldn’t have to break her baby’s heart by explaining that her new friend had gone back to his expensive toys and forgotten about her.

* * *

Tomorrow, as it turned out, started with a rush order for a wedding at eleven, and didn’t really slow down from there. Last-minute orders, regular requests that suddenly needed to be made larger, and a catering request for the nearby TV station that took twenty minutes to negotiate.

Fortunately Marinette was content to play quietly in her room today… or more likely make something, given what she kept disappearing up there with on the rare occasions either of her parents was in the back long enough to see her.

By the time the bakery closed, Marinette had already put herself to bed – early even – and both of her parents were ready to collapse. It was definitely too late now, but Sabine made herself a note to be sure and call tomorrow.

* * *

“Hello, Dupain-Cheng residence, Sabine speaking.”

“Mme. Cheng? It’s Emilie Agreste. Adrien wouldn’t happen to be over there, would he?”

“…tell me she didn’t.”

“Mme. Cheng, your daughter’s determination and loyalty are truly inspirational.”

“…I’ll go check her room.”

* * *

_Adrien blinked rapidly as he stared at the ceiling. He wouldn’t cry, not yet. Crying meant admitting…_

_She’d called every day after that first bit – it must have taken that long for her parents to let her use the phone. The staff had tried to hide it, but that had only made it more obvious that she was trying to reach him. And, and he knew she wouldn’t just give up. So she hadn’t called today, that just meant she was busy, she hadn’t–_

_He stiffened as he heard his bedroom door open. Maman and Father had already checked on him tonight, nobody should be in here._

_Maybe this was why Marinette hadn’t called today? Someone had kidnapped her and now they were here for him too. Of course! It was the only thing that made sense! After all, she hadn’t–_

_Silently, he slid out of his bed, circling around so that there was always something between him and the footsteps he could hear. The way She’d taught him to sneak._

_There was a moment when the footsteps hesitated and Adrien took his chance, throwing all his weight into a blind tackle. He and the intruder tumbled across the floor, and then he found himself on the ground looking up into a pair of familiar blue eyes._

_Marinette smiled. “There you are! Come on, let’s go!”_

_Adrien felt something give in his chest._

_She hadn’t forgotten him._

* * *

They ran around for a week after that. They’d visited Kim again, and Marinette had seen another friend at a park one day and Adrien had finally gotten to meet Nino. It was actually while they were hiding in some bushes from Nino’s parents that they overheard something that prompted a conversation.

* * *

Gabriel was in a board meeting and would be for the rest of the day, so Emilie found herself with Nathalie hovering off her shoulder as she walked along the banks of the Seine, not so much hoping to find the children as hoping that word would reach them that she was searching.

“Hi Mme. Adrien’s Maman!”

Emilie blinked at the girl that had suddenly appeared in front of her. Her gaze traveled over the harness made of bungee cords, leather belts, and… was that an umbrella? The extension cord attached to the harness kept Marinette suspended at Emilie’s eye level and ran up to connect to something unseen on the bridge the two women had just passed under.

Realizing the girl was waiting for a response, Emilie shook herself and smiled. “Hello Marinette, it’s lovely to see you dear. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Marinette gave her a smile that absolutely showed that the girl’s parents made desserts for a living. “You’re nice! Not at all like M. Adrien’s Papa. He’s mean. Why’d you marry him anyway?”

Emilie heard Nathalie make a strangled noise and mentally added a few points to the girl’s score. There weren’t many people who could break the legendary Sancoeur composure after all. “Love is funny like that dear. Don’t be too hard on poor Gabriel though, he does care, he just doesn’t always know how to show it.”

“Well that’s silly, why doesn’t someone just teach him?”

“Oh, I’ve been trying dear, but adults can be funny about these things. Remember though, if I hadn’t married him, we wouldn’t have been able to have Adrien.”

The five-year-old looked like she felt that logic was flawed but didn’t know how to argue it. Emilie decided to spare her the headache. “In any case, that wasn’t what you came here for, and as much as I adore chatting with you, I’m sure you have things you’d rather be doing.”

“Oh yeah! Adrien wanted to ask about a movie thing happening soon? He knows it’s super important and wants to be there for it!”

“Ah, that. That’s in three days, though Adrien will need to be back the day after tomorrow in order for us to be ready in time. Actually, would you like to come with as well Marinette?”

“Can I!?”

“As long as your parents allow it.”

“Awesome! Thank you Mme. Adrien’s Mom!” The girl gave a sharp tug to the cord holding her up and zipped back to the top of the bridge.

* * *

“So now we’re rewarding them for this unacceptable behavior.”

“No dear, we’re rewarding them for making sure he’s home in time for important events.”

* * *

“Now Marinette, I know you worry about Adrien. And I’m glad that the two of you are able to take care of each other. But from now on, instead of just taking off and running away with him, let us know, alright?”

* * *

_Maman and Papa_

_Went to go get Adrien. You said to let you know. Thank you for ~~unda~~ ~~unders~~ getting it._

_-Love, Marinette_

Tom facepalmed. “That’s not what we meant sweetheart.”

* * *

“Gentlemen, I hired you because you are thirty of the best security professionals in Europe. Moreover, I gave you an extensive briefing on Mlle. Dupain-Cheng specifically. So. What happened?”

* * *

“So this is what an arcade is like?”

“You’ve never been to an arcade before?” Adrien and Marinette turned to see a boy their age with glasses looking at them with a mix of shock and eagerness.

“No?”

“Well you’re going to love it; this is the best place in the world. I’m Max by the way.”

“Adrien.”

“Marinette.”

“Come on, I can show you all the best games!”

* * *

“Oh, I’ve missed you my little fairy! And who’s this?”

“Nonna, this is my best friend Adrien. Adrien, this is my Nonna.”

“Oh so _this_ is the Adrien your parents tell me you keep running off with. I wouldn’t have thought we’d need to watch for that for another decade or so.”

_“Mother!”_

* * *

“The song itself is innocent enough. While it certainly insinuates some things, it could hardly be called bawdy. I would however like to know _which_ member of this household thought it would be acceptable to immortalize my son’s tendency to run off with a baker’s daughter with music.”

“Everyone! I’ve finished the third verse! Oh, Gabriel darling, listen to this, I’ve been working on something for Adrien and Marinette.”

Gabriel Agreste shot his wife a betrayed look. It was not a pout, no matter what the staff said.

Nathalie would back him up.

(Nathalie got a raise the next week. This was entirely coincidental.)

* * *

“Hi, I’m Juleka.”

“Hi Juleka, what do you do for fun?”

“You guys ever been on a boat?”

* * *

“Nathalie, please, please tell me that a five-year-old girl can’t get through this new security system.”

“The shutters are the same ones used in our consulates, the motion detectors are the same ones used in the capitol building, the cameras are currently used by the military, and the gate and external building entrances require separate four digit codes unique to the thirty-two character encryption key embedded in the new passcards.”

“But is it enough?”

“…I could stake my job on it?”

“Don’t you dare.”

* * *

Phillipe looked down at the little girl with the rotary saw loaded into her little red wagon. “You got a way to pay for that?”

She smiled and showed him a credit card. “It’s my friend’s dad’s. He said it was alright to use it.”

Phillipe shrugged and rang her up. Not the first time someone’d let a kid run a little errand like this to let them feel useful. The girl was probably being shadowed by one of her responsible adults. Besides, it wasn’t like she could actually hurt herself with it while the thing was still boxed up. “Need help with that?”

The girl looked up at him from where she was struggling to reach the card swiper. “Yes please.”

Phillipe nodded, helped her with it, and then chatted about how cute it was with the next customer in line.

* * *

Marinette liked this one. He was nice. Most of the check-out people were, but some of them weren’t so nice. Like that one old man. Honestly, she didn’t know what his problem was. Adrien _had_ said it was okay for her to use the card – he hadn’t known how it worked, but a nice lady had shown her that the first time she’d gone to use it.

Now she just needed to find a store to buy a drill at. You never bought everything at one place for a secret mission, that was suspicious.

* * *

“Run for it, it’s alive!”

“What did you even do?”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“Not doing anything did _not_ bring the electronics store to life.”

“Alright kids, I’ve got a pair of fire extinguishers, some magnets we use to clean off drives, the remains of our modem/router, an old Nintendo controller, a baseball bat, and an AOL installation disk. Who’s ready to help me put down an AI uprising before it reaches the internet?”

* * *

“Power tools.”

“It would seem so sir.”

“She was bad enough with craft supplies, playground equipment, and kitchen implements. She disabled the most advanced motion sensors you could find with a mechanical eggbeater and six inches of tinfoil. And for the rest of our security, she had power tools. _Who gave her power tools?_ ”

Nathalie coughed. “Actually sir, there were some unusual purchases on one of your personal cards I was going to bring up this morning.”

“…Nathalie… are you telling me that not only did she acquire everything she needed to bypass our security, but she sent us the bill for it too?”

“Ah… yes, sir.”

“Excuse me Nathalie, I need to go lie down.”

* * *

“Papa?”

“Yes Marinette?”

“Teach me how to play video games?”

“Umm… don’t you already know? You play with me and your maman on family nights all the time.”

“Yeah, but… I’m not very good at them. Not like you are. And I need to be better so that if I ever run into a living TV again I can kick its butt!”

“O…kay? Right, well let’s start with fighting games then since I think that’s what’s in the system right now. So, the key to classic fighting games is combinations…”

* * *

“Right then, if you want a job done right…”

* * *

Gabriel was not sure what had happened. One moment he had been seated in a chair blocking Adrien’s door, the next, he was tumbling through the air with the strangest sensation of falling _up_. And now he was suspended roughly three feet over the floor and tangled up in… in yarn from his _own_ design room in another part of the house, and locking eyes with a particular pigtailed nuisance.

Right, Mlle. Dupain-Cheng. That’s what happened.

Well, never let it be said that Gabriel Agreste couldn’t use what resources he had. “What exactly is your motivation in all this Mlle. Dupain-Cheng?”

“What?”

Right, five-year-old. It was hard to remember that sometimes. “Why do you keep doing this? What do you want?”

“Adrien.” Gabriel couldn’t help but gape at that, this was a level of vicious cunning that – “He’s my friend. And you keep trying to lock him up.” Oh. “But now I’ve got you, and nobody’s here to stop me, and I can make sure you never lock him up again.” Wait, what!? This was not her usual MO. Had one of his enemies manipulated her somehow? Or could this be the girl’s own idea? He could only watch helplessly as she reached into her bag and withdrew…

A feather?

No, he corrected himself, a writing quill. Complete with an inkpot that she was setting on the floor next to a pile of… sigh… of _his_ stationery. She noticed him gaping at the quill and smiled. “Gotta write it with a fancy pen, it’s more official that way.”

Wait, what? Fancy pen? What’s more official…

Oh.

Oh damn it all to hell.

Some contemptible imbecile had taught this girl what a _contract_ was.

Thus began three hours of torturous negotiations. Gabriel didn’t know what was worse, her unnatural ability to see through his every manipulation, or the way she would gently bop his nose whenever she called him on it.

And then there was her comment of “Mme. Adrien’s Maman says she’s trying to help you learn how to be nice, so you should try to learn how to not be mean.” Which just wasn’t _fair_ , especially because it had apparently been a genuine observation!

Finally though – _finally_ – they reached the end. “Alright then, are you going to untie me so I can sign this?”

“Nope.”

“Nope? _Nope?_ ”

“Nope. I’m not stupid. You haven’t signed it yet. I’m gonna leave it here, and then you’ll sign it, and I’ll sign it when I bring Adrien back to make sure you haven’t changed nothing, and then Mme. Adrien’s Maman can take it to get no-ta-rised.”

“So you’re just going to leave me here?”

“S’why I used the good yarn. It’ll hold you up all night easy. Besides, now you know how Adrien feels.”

After the girl had stolen his son away into the night, Gabriel found himself musing that if he had to lose to a child, at least it was an intelligent and competent one.


	3. Chapter 3

There was giggling. It sounded like some of the maids, so Gabriel decided to ignore it and continue to feign sleep.

“Gabriel?”

Emilie. An _amused_ Emilie from the sounds of it. Time to begin the day then. “Good morning dear.”

“Are you alright?”

“Surprisingly, this is actually rather comfortable. If this is what a hammock feels like then I finally see the appeal. Remind me to have Nathalie order one. On a related note I have to tell you that last night did not go to plan.”

“I’d gathered.” Ah, _highly_ amused then. “Exactly how far off script did things go?”

“… I… may have signed away partial custody of our son.”

And now Emilie was _cackling_.

* * *

“Hey Max? What’s this game?” The three of them were at the arcade again.

“I… actually haven’t ever had a chance to play that one.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a co-op.”

“A What?”

“A game that needs at least two people to play.”

* * *

“You are aware that the document is not likely to be legally binding, right sir?”

“I am aware that you qualified that statement. I am also aware that my sanity will likely not be able to survive discovering just which obscure laws combine to _make_ the document binding. For better or worse Nathalie, I’m afraid we’re stuck with the girl.”

* * *

“What’s with the crowd?”

“A pair of knee-highs are _killing_ it at Mecha Pilot IX!”

* * *

“Alright, you seem to have fighting games and shooters down, now let me introduce you to the wonderful world of RPGs…”

* * *

Christmas morning Gabriel woke in an unfamiliar room. He and Emilie were bundled on the couch, while Nathalie appeared to have been placed in a reclining chair.

Oh, and a confused Tom Dupain was standing in the room’s entrance.

“I don’t suppose you know how we got here?”

Tom wordlessly shook his head.

“Right then, I’m just going to blame the children and file this under ‘I don’t want to know.’”

Tom seemed to agree, given that he turned and ambled off, presumably in search of one of coffee, alcohol, or bed.

* * *

Adrien smiled at Marinette as he helped her take a seat next to him at the pinnacle. “Told you we could climb it.”

“Fine, you were right.”

They sat there for a few minutes, enjoying the company, the view, and the warmth of the sun. Then something occurred to the girl.

“Adrien?”

“Yeah?”

“How do we get down?”

A chilly breeze blew.

* * *

“How on earth did you get chocolate in your _hair_?”

* * *

“Thanks again Monsieur!”

“No trouble at all. I could hardly leave you two up there all night, now could I?”

“Yeah, but you still saved us, so that makes you our hero.”

“Well then, I accept your thanks with my own. Now then, I need to get this back to my school, so you two run along now. And no more climbing things you don’t know how to get down from.”

“Okay!”

“Thanks again!”

As he watched the two children run off, as he folded the ladder back up, even as he carried it the few blocks back to the school he had just started on at as a principal, M. Damocles couldn’t stop thinking about that hero comment.

It was… touching. And at the same time highlighted a part of himself he thought he’d put away. Brought back some childhood dreams.

Well… honestly, it was probably better to start _now_ when he could make sure he was in shape and everything worked first than in a decade or so when he’d probably do it and go off half-cocked as his mid-life crisis.

* * *

Tom and Sabine burst into the storeroom where the crash had come from. A pair of five-year-olds – covered in flour and white as ghosts – blinked up at them from the floor.

Sabine chuckled. “You grab the camera, I’ll go start a bath.”

* * *

“Adrien, you are soaked and _filthy_ , what did you do, jump in the Seine?”

“It was the only way to get away from the bees.”

“…”

“…”

“Right, that’s it. I’m investing in entertainment for you and Mlle. Dupain-Cheng.”

* * *

“What’s a sleepover?”

* * *

“It’s well past midnight! _What_ are you two _doing_!?”

“Monsters under the bed.”

“Oh Adrien honey, there’s no such thing as–”

“Is too, see?” All three adults stared for a moment at the severed tentacle Marinette held up proudly. It was still… leaking. “And you even smooshed one behind the door!”

“…Huh. So we did. Nathalie, tomorrow morning find a discrete and reputable taxidermist. Perhaps a repeat performance will be prevented if the bogeymen have a visible reminder of why exactly they should be afraid of Mlle. Dupain-Cheng.”

“Of course sir.”

“Do you want us to stay with you until you fall asleep?”

The pair looked around the room before shaking their heads.

“No thank you Mama.”

“We’ve got this.”

Gabriel gave a sharp nod and turned. “Very well then children, as you were.”

* * *

Gabriel looked from the bottle of hair dye to the earnest girl who’d given it to him.

“Adrien heard you tell Nathalie you wanted me to give you gray hair.”

…And Emilie was cackling again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed the new tags.
> 
> To everyone who expected the chaos to double once Adrien started instigating shenanigans alongside Marinette and had predictions based on that, I feel I must apologize. I'm sorry that I'm going to have to disappoint you all.
> 
> You see, as I now feel compelled to inform you, I'm afraid you undershot.

Adrien is six years old when his life is forever changed again.

His parents have an Important Meeting with Important People at an Important Place. That’s nothing new. What’s different this time is that apparently these Important People are actually an Important Couple and Adrien’s parents want him to come along because the Important Couple have an Important Daughter who’s his age.

* * *

“Hello?”

_“Marinette? This is Adrien.”_

“Adrien!” The girl adjusted the telephone handset. “You remembered my phone number!”

_“…Yyeeeeessss? Um… Anyway. I kinda need your help with something?”_

“Okay?” Marinette frowned. “Wait. Aren’t you ‘posed to be at the meeting with your parents?”

_“That’s the thing. The people my parents are seeing have a kid our age, and Marinette, she’s worse off than I ever was! She doesn’t even realize she’s locked up!”_

_“I am not locked up! I could leave any time I wanted! I just don’t want to!”_

_“See! She says she’s a princess, and she’s locked in a tower that’s even taller than yours, and I think they’re brainwashing her into becoming one of them!”_

Marinette nodded solemnly. Princesses locked in towers were serious business. “How can I help?”

_“They’ve got people watching us. It was hard finding a phone to call you from. Can you please come rescue us?”_

_“You’re ridiclus! We don’t need to be rescued!”_

_“Please Marinette! We have to save her!”_

“Of course. I’m on my way. Where are you?”

_“Okay, so you know that hotel that…”_

* * *

“Let go of me! This is ridiclus! Where’ve you two even taken us!?”

“Sorry Chloe, but we had to save you before they could turn you mean too.”

Marinette nodded. “Princesses shouldn’t grow up to be mean witches.”

“That’s– I’m– my parents–”

“Chloe.” Both girls turned at Adrien’s Grown-Up tone. “Your mama didn’t even know your name. You needed to be saved.”

“I… I…” And suddenly Adrien and Marinette had their arms full of crying blonde girl.

* * *

“Jean-Whatever, do be a dear and go fetch the children now, would you?”

“Of course Madame.”

Gabriel and Emilie traded looks. It had been readily apparent and steadily reinforced that Andre was to be negotiated with whilst Audrey was to be tolerated.

There were a few more minutes of idle chatting before the butler returned, looking decidedly… bemused?

“I’m sorry Sirs and Madams, but it would seem the children have… disappeared.”

“What?”

A suspicion began worming its way into Gabriel’s brain. Even _he_ had had to suppress a cringe at Audrey not knowing her own daughter’s name. If he was right… a mildly evil grin began spreading across his face, unnoticed and unbidden.

“The Children are gone Madame Audrey.”

“What!? What about our security?”

“Disabled Sir. Most notably the motion sensors that should have triggered the cameras in the private VIP stairway were disabled with–”

“–With a mechanical eggbeater and a strip of tinfoil.” Gabriel breathed reverentially. “It’s not just me anymore.”

* * *

“…this is our new friend Chloe. Chloe, this is Nino and his Maman.”

“Hello?”

“Hi Chloe!”

“It’s wonderful to meet a new friend of these two dear. Although I do have to ask.” Mme. Lahiffe’s attention switched to the _familiar_ troublemakers. “Do _Chloe’s_ parents know where she is?”

“ByeNino!ByeMmeNino’sMaman!”

“Niceseeingyou!”

“Wait, WhaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAA–”

Mme. Lahiffe blinked. By the time it registered that the trio had darted away, they’d put an entire street of Parisian traffic between them and – goodness, how _had_ the children not been _hit_ doing that!? She took a moment to weigh her options, realized there was no way for her to catch up with them, and sighed as she looked down at her son. “If you ever have problems dear, can you please just come talk to us instead of running off with them?”

“Okay Mama!”

* * *

“It’s _not just_ me anymore!” There were a number of things wrapped up in Gabriel Agreste’s laughter and new mantra, vindication, relief, schadenfreude, genuine humor (it _was_ slightly funny when it happened to someone else), irony, a hint of pride, and the _slight_ est bit of madness.

“Is he alright?”

“Oh yes, I daresay this has been a long time coming actually. It’s good that he’s finally letting it all out.”

“It’s not just _me_ any _more_!”

“…Though I may need to talk to Marinette about going a little easier on him.”

* * *

Roger blinked as he stepped into his precinct to find the majority of the bullpen curled up under their desks and rocking gently to the rhythm of “Three of them. Three of them. Three of them…”

He shook his head and walked over to one of the few officers still standing, a stalwart father of five who’s been involved in the worst shootout of the decade and still insisted it had nothing on three toddlers with the stomach flu. “So what’s all this about?”

“Agreste and Dupain-Cheng ran away again.”

“Aw, that’s nothing new; they up and vanish all the time. S’why we have the boards.”

“Thing is, this time they apparently took the Bourgeois girl with them – not like the times they’ve run with their other friends. We’ve had sightings called in. She’s not just another sidekick; she’s a full-on partner-in-crime. She’s one of them.”

“That’s ridiculous. You can’t mean–”

“Excuse me, sirs?” The interrupter was a pimply faced teen. Part timer. Mostly clerical work. Jumped at his own shadow. Always reliable. “I need to get past you to update the board.”

Roger watched in numb horror as a picture of a blue-eyed blonde was pinned up next to the Twin Terrors of Paris. He sat down. Hard. Made all the harder by the fact that there was not in fact a chair to sit in.

“Are you alright sir?”

“I’m fine, just need a moment. Carry on.”

* * *

Anarka found herself with significantly more children on her boat than usual. “Arr, decided to drop in for a visit did yer?”

“Oh! Chloe, this is Juleka’s Mama, but–”

“Call me Cap’n when we be shipside Lassie!”

Marinette pouted. “I was getting to it.”

“I’m sure ye were Lass, just need ter be clear. So then, I be guessing this be the new rich girl all the other parents be abuzz over?” The Cap’n scratched her chin for a bit. “Bah! Whatever! Just don’t be caught on me boat if’n the fuzz comes sniffing around.” And with that she waltzed of to the kitchen to start lunch.

“Are… you sure she’s a grown-up?”

“Yes?”

“Not really?”

“She’s close enough, right?”

* * *

The six parents of the three runaways had gathered to discuss the situation – or, more accurately, to bring the Bourgeois’ up to speed on how this worked. The course of the conversation was… predictable, for anyone even passingly familiar with the people involved.

Such it was that, as Sabine Cheng looked at the… woman across the table from her, this, this _s_ _āob_ _ī_ , who had managed to ascribe no less than _seven_ names to _her own daughter_ in the past _five minutes_ without _even once_ managing to hit the right one… she came to a decision. The men around the table all felt a chill run down their spines and found themselves taking an involuntary step backwards as she finished her tea.

As she raised the cup from her lips, it was like watching a guillotine blade rise.

The gentle _cl-clink_ of the cup being set in its saucer was akin to a revolver’s hammer coming back.

The demure way she folded her hands brought to mind visions of funeral shrouds.

The curve of her soft smile and the tiniest tilt she gave her head were echoed in the Reaper’s Scythe.

And the nigh imperceptible inhalation as she prepared her kind remonstrations? To hear that was to hear a wingbeat of the Angel of Destruction himself.

* * *

“Plagg? Are you alright?”

“Fine Sugarcube.”

“You sure? You’ve been staring into the distance for the past half hour.”

“Just… can’t shake the feeling I just missed a thing of beauty and wonder. Also, I think someone _might_ have pulled a bit of my power without using the ring?”

Tikki stopped. “Wait, what? Plagg, is your cult back?”

“Hmm… Nah, this was nothing like them. Besides, I get the feeling I’d’ve _liked_ whatever happened this time.”

“…If you say so. Just… be careful. We don’t need a repeat of Atlantis.”

“Oh come _on_ , would you let that go already!? It wasn’t even _my fault_!”

“If you say so.”

* * *

As Andre and the butler carried a partially catatonic Audrey out to the Bourgeois limo, the parents who were more inured to their children vanishing regularly watched from the window (and if a slight distance was present between the one who had recently shown exactly _where_ Marinette got it from and the others, nobody said anything).

“Tom,” Sabine was the one who broke the silence, “Is there anything we can do to get that poor girl _away_ from those two?”

Gabriel snorted. “I imagine you need only wait a few months for your daughter to pull the same thing she did with us.”

Tom raised an eyebrow. “Oh? This sounds interesting.”

Emilie started giggling. “Marinette apparently convinced my husband to sign over partial custody of Adrien.”

“Really? And it’ll hold up?”

“Quite frankly? I’d rather not find out.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blame csad and the_scatterbrained_oracle. The former requested a crazy genius crossover with mentorship elements and the latter made a comparison that was entirely too flattering for me to forget.  
> Thus the planned New York escapade went from a footnote to a chapter, and the fact that this story now has a crossover in the background is entirely their fault.

Marinette frowned.

The three friends had had to come back for an Important Thing for Adrien’s Papa. She had suspected they’d have to rescue Chloe again pretty soon, but she’d thought it would be a while.

And then Chloe had called her and tried to say something before somebody else had hung up.

She’d zoomed over as fast as she could, but Chloe’s Butler told her that Chloe’s Maman had already taken Chloe and left. Even though Chloe didn’t want to go.

Because Chloe’s Maman was being a meanie-head and taking Chloe away _just_ so that she couldn’t see Marinette and Adrien anymore.

And so as Marinette rode the elevator back down to the ground floor, she frowned.

Oh well.

She was just going to have to grab Adrien and go get her.

…

And maybe stop by the library on the way to find out how to get to this “New York” place.

* * *

Chloe curled more under her covers and tightened her hold on herself. She wasn’t crying, not anymore. She’d used up all her tears forever ago. She gave a little whimper as she realized yet again that Mother had won.

_“Psst.”_

This wasn’t a fairy tale. Or maybe it was, it’s just that in her story the Princess had had to go back and the Witch had moved her to another tower.

_“Psst.”_

Either way, she’d been taken away from Paris, and no way was she going to get lucky enough for another rescue. She was as far away from her heroes as Mother could get her after all.

_“Psst! Chloe! Are you awake!?”_

Wait, what?

She looked up to see… Adrien. Watching her from her hotel room’s vent while Marinette was next to him doing something with a wire hanger.

“Adrien! Marinette! What are you doing here!?”

_“Sshhh! Keep your voice down or they’ll hear us!”_

In an instant, Chloe was out of bed and kneeling next to the grate. _“What are you two doing here?”_

 _“We’re here to–”_ The grate popped open and the pair scrambled out. _“We’re here to rescue you.”_

_“Wha– Bu– How did you two get here? How did you even **find** me?”_

Adrien gave her a Serious look. _“It’s Marinette.”_

…Fair enough.

* * *

“I assume everyone here has seen the news?”

Roger conveyed his affirmative alongside every other officer in the room.

“Good, then we can cut to the chase. We’re currently trying to get all three of them on the no-fly list – specifically for flights _out_ of France. Towards that end we need a well-built case. So here’s what we’ll need from each of you…”

* * *

So things had gone a little bit wrong when they were _leaving_ the hotel. And the city.

There had been shouting.

There had been screaming.

There had been angry janitors.

There had been security guards.

There had been a Brazilian buffet.

There had been a school carnival.

There had been a unicycling saxophonist playing Yakety Sax.

There had been road construction.

There had been a manhole cover.

There had been one-and-a-half police chases.

There had been a helicopter ride.

And then they’d finally managed to find a place to hide and take a nap, and some jerk had gone and _moved the truck_.

So they’d been stuck until the truck stopped, and then they’d snuck away without being noticed.

Which still left them completely lost. And they couldn’t let any adults see them, because they’d try to take Chloe back to her mom.

And so, lost, isolated, and hiding in a small forest on the outskirts of some foreign town, they were left taking a chance on the first kid they found, and while _he_ apparently didn’t speak French, his friend _did_.

* * *

“Oy, Noodlehead! Stop picking on the new kids!”

“Elle semble bruyante ... Attendez, elle ne l'intimide pas, n'est-ce pas?”

“I am _not_ picking on them! They’re _lost,_ and _this_ lummox is trying to give them directions.”

“Cela semble être une ... sorte d'amitié étrange.”

“They’re lost and you’re making them talk to your stuffed tiger to get directions!?”

“Qu'est-ce que les nattes ont à voir avec quoi que ce soit?”

“I’m not making them do anything! It’s not my fault all they speak is gibberish! I don’t even know why – Wait, what!? Since when do _you_ speak _French_!?”

“Vous nous laisserez vraiment utiliser votre téléporteur? Merci beaucoup, ce sera beaucoup plus facile que de rentrer seul.”

“I am so sorry you’ve had to deal with this idiot. We can head to my house and get–”

“What!? Why would you even _tell_ them about that!? If people _know_ we have a teleporter, all of our plausible deniability is _gone_!”

“Oh, je comprends, le fait d'être très fort est juste une chose Américaine, n'est-ce pas?”

“I promise we’re not all like this. Please don’t judge all Americans by this moron.”

“Encore une fois, nous sommes très reconnaissants que vous nous aidiez comme ça, mais nous sommes partis depuis un certain temps et nous devrions probablement rentrer chez nous maintenant. Pouvez-vous nous montrer au téléporteur s'il vous plaît?”

“Nope, I refuse! I’m not going to show them – Hey wait! Where do you think you’re going!?”

“Les gars, aidez-moi à me rappeler que nous devons apprendre l'anglais afin que nous puissions les remercier tous les deux correctement un jour.”

* * *

“Why would you make them… we actually moved.”

“Well duh, that’s what a teleporter _does_. Alright, welcome to Paris, everybody out!”

“Umm… this isn’t Paris.”

“Of course it is, look, French signs on the buildings.”

“Except that’s not French.”

“Wait, you three can speak English?”

“Uh, no? You two just started speaking French.”

“You’re both wrong. And ridiculous. The teleporter has a built in translator function that makes it so that anyone who takes a trip in it can automatically understand everyone they travel in it with. And right there, a noodle cart. See, French!”

“Except that’s an Asian noodle cart.”

“See it’s the little features that really _make_ some of his inventions.”

“…You’re real too?”

“Yes?”

“Why wouldn’t he be?”

“Duh.”

“I’ve been _saying that_ for _years_! And _look_! Right there! Eiffel Tower!”

“Except the Eiffel Tower’s not red.”

* * *

“Here we are, Paris!”

“…This isn’t Paris either.”

“Of course it is; that right there is the Roman Coliseum.”

“…Which is in _Italy_.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

* * *

“Paris!”

“London.”

* * *

“Paris!”

“If I’m reading that welcome to town sign right, then this is Paris, Texas.”

“France is in Texas?”

“Nope.”

* * *

“Last I checked Paris was not populated primarily by penguins.”

* * *

“Welcome to Olive Garden, how many in your party today?”

“Are you getting _worse_ at this?”

* * *

“Aloha!”

“Right, that’s it. Move over Boy of Destiny, I’m driving.”

“What! It’s _my_ teleporter!”

“Yeah, and at this rate you’ll teleport us into a volcano.”

* * *

“Here we are!”

“…Yep, this is it!”

“Thank you all so much for helping us like this.”

“If we can ever help you guys out let us know.” Marinette handed a paper of addresses and phone numbers to the American girl.

“Razzen Frazzin Women Drivers.”

“I’m sorry what was that? Did you just say you wanted to _walk_ home?”

“It’s _my_ teleporter darn it!”

* * *

After the cardboard box teleporter vanished with their new American friends, the three sat there for a while. They knew that they should probably visit their respective parents to let them know they were alright, but none of them were quite ready yet.

“Hey, you guys?” Adrien and Marinette turned to look at Chloe. “You… You’ll never leave me, right? You’ll always come for me? No matter what?”

“Uh-huh!”

“Of course!”

“So… so it’ll always be the three of us? Forever and ever?”

“Yep.”

“No stopping it.”

“…My Daddy’s the mayor though. What if he gets the govmint involved?”

Adrien grabbed her left hand. “Even then. We’ll still come for you.”

Marinette nodded and grabbed Chloe’s right hand. She smiled and borrowed a line from a bedtime story Maman had told her once (With a different number of course). “If the entire world were to try to keep us apart, then we’d just fight them all. It’ll be the three of us against the world.”

And there were many hugs.


	6. Chapter 6

Nathalie stepped into Adrien’s room to check if the children had turned up during the night. She promptly found herself in a staring contest with a caterpillar made of blankets with three heads.

She blinked. They blinked in sequence.

She blinked again. They blinked in a different sequence.

Somewhere between Marinette’s left eye blinking in tandem with Chloe’s right and Marinette’s right eye synchronizing with Adrien’s left, Nathalie snapped out of the strange trance she’d found herself in and turned on her heel.

“I’ll just have breakfast sent up then.”

* * *

“What do you mean we’re not allowed on the plane!?”

“Well you can get on no problem Ma’am. Your daughter, unfortunately, is a different story. Apparently there was an incident of some sort in New York? Regardless, she’s not allowed to leave France by air.”

“This is utterly ridiculous! Clarissa, come here and tell this woman… Where’d she go?”

“She wandered off with a pair of kids a little while ago. They seemed to know each other so I didn’t say anything. Do you want me to use the P.A. to call her for you?”

* * *

“Hey guys, it’s been a while!”

“Hi Max! It’s good to see you. This is our new friend Chloe.”

“A pleasure.”

“Nice to meetcha!”

“By the way, are there any games here that play three?”

“Hmm… Actually… There is _one_ , but… It’s supposed to be really hard to play.”

“That’s okay, we can do it.”

“Well alright then, this way to Mecha Strike Air.”

* * *

_*Bee-Boop* “Attention passengers. Our departure has been delayed due to an obstruction on the tracks. Please wait while our crews clear the way. We appreciate your patience.” *Boo-Beep*_

“Pha, we’ll just see about that. I’m going to have a word with the conductor, Cassandra, come along and… Damn it.”

* * *

Gabriel paused as he heard noises coming from his son’s room. He opened the door to verify, nodded, and closed the door unnoticed.

“Oh, Emilie! We should be expecting a visit from an irate Audrey at some point today!”

* * *

“The cruise, this cruise, which I have paid money for, in advance, and which I am now presenting you with tickets to board, at the time, day, and location specified on the tickets as the ones at which I should present myself, has been delayed.”

“Yes Ma’am. Unforeseeable circumstances. Luckily it looks like someone’s already dealing with the issue, so we should be able to leave once the harbor’s clear.”

“Well at least _someone_ has a measure of competency around here. Se Charla, this is why… Oh where in the Hell did she run off to now?”

* * *

“Look out!”

“Why would you bring this home with you!?”

“Duck!”

“I didn’t do it on purpose, it just followed us!”

“How did it even get this far up river?”

“On your left!”

“ _That’s_ what you’re worried about!?”

“I should probably mention I don’t know how to swim!”

“Stab! Stab! Stab! Stab!”

“Oh no, I’m _worried_ about our impending death and devouring, I’m _confused_ because that should not fit in the Seine.”

“Learn later, fight now!”

“Gee Max; I’m so glad that you’re along to highlight the important problems!”

“Incoming!”

“What if I fall in though!?”

“On the right! On the right!”

“I am starting to think that day trips with the larger group away from the arcade might be hazardous to my health.”

“Everybody jump, two, three, and back, two, three, and don’t-let-it-get-the-mast, two three.”

“Then learn quickly!”

_“Hello?”_

“Hey, Roger? It’s Anarka. I don’t suppose you could spare a few of your boys for a trip to the docks? You know where I park the boat.”

_“You’re talking normally and **requesting** a police presence. I take it we should arm for bear?”_

“Whoah!”

“Adrien! Let go of him you slimy – grah!”

“Kraken actually.”

* * *

“Alright, next up is card game emulators. Let’s start with the generic stuff first. Poker is widely regarded as a game of chance, and to some extent it is. However, there are several strategies that…”

* * *

“So the good news is that we didn’t get the Kraken showing up in the middle of Paris.”

“And the bad news?”

“While this isn’t actually the Kraken, I’m fairly certain that’s what it would have grown up to be.”

“Be on the lookout for Angry Mama, understood.”

* * *

“So, now that we’re in your precious building, _what_ was so important that you had to make us get out of our limo to deal with it?”

“Well Ma’am, I’ve got a report here on a kidnapper and victim who the authorities think might try for the border. Descriptions match you and the girl.”

“What!? You can’t possibly think that–”

“Oh no Ma’am. I’m sure you’ll be able to clear this up right quick like, just protocol’s all. How ‘bout you little Missy, you excited to visit a foreign country?”

“No! I don’t want to leave! I wanna go back home to Paris! Please, don’t let her take me away!”

“…”

“…”

“Right, Ma’am, I’m gonna need you to answer a few questions for me.”

“Listen here Chastity–”

“My _name_ is _Chloe_!”

“…Now please.”

* * *

“Whoa, it’s a DDR set.”

“You’ve seen one of these?”

“They’ve got a pair at the arcade, but the big kids never let us play.”

Gabriel preened at scoring an even higher victory than he’d thought he would.

“There’s only two dance pads though.”

Gabriel deflated.

“Ah… yes. Home systems like this have to be ordered several months in advance and the two of you hadn’t met Mlle. Bourgeois yet when your father sent away for it. I can call in tomorrow to see if we can get someone to come modify it if you want.”

“That’ll take a while… Don’t worry about it Nathalie, we can just take turns.”

“Don’t be silly Adrien, then whoever’s not playing’ll get bored. We’ll just share instead.”

* * *

“Let me make myself _absolutely clear_.” Audrey had been arguing with Chloe for over an hour. Everyone else in the hotel knew she’d also been _losing_ for over an hour, but good luck getting _her_ to realize that. “No daughter of mine is going to be running around town with a feckless playboy and his baker’s daughter floozy! Do you understand me?”

“Yes.”

* * *

Mme. Caron suppressed a groan as she saw her roll sheet. There had been some to-do that meant the classes had all been rearranged last minute, and so she was only now seeing her class roster as class was starting on the first day of school.

Which was annoying, because she would have preferred advance warning that she’d be dealing with siblings. And a chance to appeal for that matter.

In fifty years of teaching, having siblings wasn’t common per say, but it had happened a few times. And it always went one of two ways. Either they didn’t get along and disrupted the class, or they got along entirely too well and disrupted the class that way.

Still. She was a professional. Moreover, she was a teacher, and these were her students. She would just have to buckle down and do her best with a bad hand.

The bell rang. She asked for and received silence. She explained how a roll call worked. There were no questions. She began taking attendance, and only a few names in she reached this year’s trouble students.

“Dupain-Cheng, Chloe.”

“Present.”

“Dupain-Cheng, Marinette.”

“Present.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have plans for this verse. I'm not going into detail on most of them, but there is one that I feel bears commenting on.
> 
> These kids'll have several enemies over the years. But it will be Audrey Bourgeois that teaches them how to hate.
> 
> Nobody's going to be forgiving her for that.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Actions Have Consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The theme was not intentional, it just kinda happened.
> 
> Also, I apologize for the bit of angst in the fluff, but not for the bit off Fluff in the drama.

“Dupain-Cheng residence, Sabine speaking.”

“Hello, Mme. Cheng? This is the school. We’re calling because your daughters were involved in an incident today and we need you or your husband to come in.”

Well then, either Marinette actually got caught in the middle of doing something she shouldn’t, or she’d been in a fight, and honestly Sabine couldn’t decide which was – Wait.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

Daughters. Plural. Either she’d misheard, or she’d managed to forget giving birth a second time.

“Your daughters were involved in an incident at school today and we need you or your husband to come in?”

Oh she couldn’t wait to hear the explanation for _this_ one.

“Yes, that’s what I thought you said.”

* * *

**There was one last life altering event that year.**

* * *

“But Veronique was bullying Juleka!”

“Marinette, it’s still not okay to use our fists.”

“We didn’t _use_ our fists! We used a rolled up newspaper and a spray bottle, just like you’re ‘posed to use on bad dogs.”

“She’s a classmate, not a dog.”

“She’s short, mean, yappy, and always wants attention, how is that not a dog.”

Sabine, having met the girl in question, refused to let herself laugh. There was a lesson here, and she was _going_ to teach it. The secretary in the corner had slightly less discipline, but managed to cover it with a cough.

“Words, girls, you need to use your words to solve these things.”

“There were words on the newspaper.” Marinette pouted.

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

* * *

“Now then girls, the issue of the fight may be dealt with, but there’s something else we need to talk about now we’re at the bakery…”

* * *

“She does so live here! She’s got a bed’n everything!”

“Oh really?”

* * *

“So I assume they assembled the frame up here, but how’d they get the mattress and box springs up multiple flights of stairs and the _ladder_ , and without us noticing?”

Sabine idly reached out and swatted her husband. She was trying to keep herself stern because _someone_ was going to have to be the bad guy, and Tom’s obvious amusement with the whole thing was _not helping._

* * *

“Her name _isn’t_ Chloe Dupain-Cheng though.”

“Sam’s real name doesn’t get used either.”

* * *

“We aren’t her parents though.”

“Yuh-huh.”

Sabine’s flippant reply evaporated as she remembered the Agrestes saying something about a custody agreement. “Oh really? How did that happen?”

“Chloe’s maman didn’t want Chloe anymore, and Chloe didn’t want her maman, so I decided to share! Adrien couldn’t ‘cause his papa’s still learning how to not be mean.”

And based on the thump in the other room Tom was still eavesdropping despite having excused himself from the conversation. “Marinette honey, that’s not how it works. There are rules and laws about these things.”

“What? But…” Oh and now the poor dear looked heartbroken.

“Please understand Chloe dear, it’s not that we don’t want you. If you want to call me Mama Sabine you can feel free, and Tom and I will always be here for you if you need us. But there’s a difference between that and what you girls did. Telling people that Tom and I are Chloe’s parents when we’re not could get us in a lot of trouble.”

And now Chloe was scared. “We didn’t mean to! It-it was all me, Marinette didn’t–”

“I am well aware of just how involved Marinette was in all this Chloe. That said… neither of you is in trouble for this part. Misunderstanding isn’t you being naughty.” That reaction though… “Now then, did I hear Marinette say your mother didn’t want you anymore?”

* * *

“…freckles Gameboy and his baker’s daughter fwoozy…”

* * *

Plagg and Tikki were curled up together napping.

In the past tense, because Plagg had jolted awake and upright so suddenly that Tikki’d been thrown clear off the bookshelf they were using. He stared into the distance for a moment, lips silently moving in calculation, before zipping across the room. “Kaalki! I’ll give you whatever you want when I get back, but I need a portal to Paris, stat!”

“Well, I suppose I do need–”

“What?” Tikki finished shaking herself awake. Hitting the floor because you weren’t aware enough to float was never fun. “Plagg, you can’t go to Paris! Wayzz, go get Master Fu!”

“But suuugarcuuuuuube! Something’s about to happen and I wanna go seeeee iiiiiiiiiiiit!”

“Plagg, no!”

“Plagg yes! I can feel it coming and–” a carrot bounced off his head.

“Bad. Idea.”

“But–”

“No.”

And that was that. Plagg went off to go sulk, Kaalki went to assure the guardian that nokwami was going anywhere, and Tikki went to try and get a straight answer out of Plagg towards what that was all about, but they all knew the matter was settled.

Fluff had spoken after all.

* * *

**You remember I said there was a life-altering event coming? That wasn’t it.**

* * *

“This is Gabriel Agreste.”

_“M. Agreste, this is Tom Dupain. Do you think you can host the kids for a week or two?”_

Odd. “Mlle. Dupain-Cheng comes and goes entirely as she pleases. Is there a reason you felt the need to schedule something in advance?”

_“Well I’m trying to stop her, but if I can’t then Sabine and I will be tied up in legal proceedings for a while and the Grand Paris will probably be too busy getting the blood out to deal with them.”_

“Ah.”

* * *

Not a single hotel employee bothered to call the police.

Most of them wouldn’t have even if Audrey _had_ been in Paris.

A few of the maids offered to help if Sabine wanted to try again at a later date.

* * *

**Not that either.**

* * *

“Sounds like you’ve got some good friends then.”

Juleka nodded and smiled at her big brother. “Uh-huh.”

“That’s good to hear. You’ll have to introduce us sometime so I can thank ‘em.”

“Okay!”

* * *

**Nope.**

* * *

“Hi! I’m Marinette and this is Chloe! I didn’t know we were allowed in the art room during recess! What’s your name?”

“…I’m Nathaniel.”

* * *

**Nuh-uh.**

* * *

Kim’s mother burst into the bedroom, drawn by the sounds of pitched combat. She found the slumber partiers surrounded by bug-like… things in various states of health, living, and… memberment.

“Excuse me, I think I need to go sit down for a bit.”

“Okay Mom!”

She’d thought the other parents were joking.

* * *

**Sorry.**

* * *

_“Why are we sneaking?”_

Louise jumped and bit back a curse. Somehow a kid in pigtails had managed to sneak up on her. More importantly, a kid in pigtails had managed to wander into the _middle of an active battle._

Honestly, this was turning out to be one hell of a day. The cult she’d stumbled across was small, stupid, and barely deserved the name. Just a bunch of plebs who thought they’d solve their problems by summoning something to fix things _for_ them. She couldn’t even have told you what they were trying to summon, they were that bad at this and the cobbled together circle was _that_ screwed up.

She’d almost turned around and left the morons to their nonsense chanting and ritual futility, but then she’d overheard one of them suggest that a sacrifice might speed things up.

Most of them were down, but there was still one idiot running around with a double barreled shotgun. Given that none of these dolts were smart enough to realize that you weren’t always fighting supernatural beings, he was at least dumb enough to think that conventional weapons would be effective against non-mortals.

And now there was a kid in the mix.

Who was waiting for an answer to her question, right.

_“Because there is a very dangerous man nearby, and you should hide so you don’t get hurt.”_

“Oh.” Did the girl look _disappointed_? “Don’t worry, we know how to handle meanie-heads like that.”

_“What are you–”_

The question went unfinished because the lunkhead in question chose that moment to come around the corner. Louise didn’t know if pigtails’ presence made him panic or what, but he jerked back and fired.

He was four feet from the girl. Louise was five feet from her at a roughly ninety degree angle. He’d already fired. There was no time to stop it, no time to even throw herself in front of it. She called up a spell to blow his head off. She’d rather not kill, but he needed to go down hard and fast if she was gonna have any chance of saving the kid. And then there was a flare of _someone else_ ’s magic and the spell died on her tongue.

Pigtails’ magic lashed out, whisker thin and lightning fast, a whip of… of pure, unadulterated _luck_ , writhing around to deflect probabilities and…

And every single buckshot pellet missed the unflinching girl whose outline was now drawn in perforation on the crate behind her.

“Marinette!”

Oh lovely, now there was _another_ kid involved. Joy.

Blondie dropped from… huh, there’s a window there.

He scrambled to wrap an arm around pigtails – probably a friend then – and _glared_ at the guy who’d almost shot her. It was a good glare too. Lots of venom and promised pain. Unfortunately for lackwit, he didn’t notice. He fired again.

Or. Y’know. Tried at least.

The _boy’s_ magic lashed out this time, misfortune as concentrated as the girl’s own lottery breaking magic thrust straight into the gun, which promptly misfired and blew up.

Louise felt her magic catch, realized it was the second time in as many minutes it’d done so, and found herself wondering how these two had gone unnoticed. Sure, they probably each disguised the signature of the other’s luck magic, but someone should still have picked up on the raw power they were throwing around.

There was a screeching that had Louise looking around for the harpy before she saw a _third_ kid – hadn’t that door been boarded up a minute ago? Sure, nails sometimes came out of old wood easy, but the bolt still should’ve… ah, the hinges had rusted through and given way.

“How _dare_ you!” Eyes snapped back to the new girl. Almost magnetically actually, why would… oh. Oh shit.

Will.

Just as untainted as her friends. Just as potent. Rolling off this little hellion in waves.

As she felt her magic catch again, Louise had an epiphany. It wasn’t that nobody had found these kids, it was that _everyone_ had found them and then promptly _run the other way_.

And Louise had been distracted, and not fast enough, and it’d been one at a time, and holy shit she was in trouble. Because Valkyrie-Lite had just told the guy off and knocked him out, and Louise wasn’t sure if it was because she’d told him to stop causing trouble or because she’d just overwhelmed his mind with her presence, but she didn’t think these kids knew that the physical blow had nothing to do with it.

And.

And that was probably the worst part. She’d felt her magic catch, because of the oaths she’d taken when she first started _really_ learning from her mother, and now she was in deeper trouble than she’d ever been.

Because here she was, not quite yet thirteen, half-trained, with almost no magical power besides a proclivity for blowing things up that she’d thankfully managed to make work for her. And now she had these three kids, who she was _magically obligated_ to help, who had enough power each that in another era they’d have been worshipped, and (Given how quickly and easily her magic had connected to theirs) who likely had _no idea_ that magic existed or that they had it.

It was _definitely_ one of those days.

* * *

**There we go.**

* * *

“I’m Marinette, this is Chloe, and that’s Adrien.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Louise.”

* * *

“Hey Mom? I need help.”

“…Only you Louise. Only you.”

“So is that a yes, or…”

* * *

“Oh hey, it’s you three again, I’ve been hoping to run into you.” Actively trying to track them down, same difference really. “Here, I wanted to thank you, so I got you these.” Books. There were limits on how she could teach these kids when she wasn’t finished with her own training and couldn’t sequester them for long-term apprenticing.

“It’s fine. He was mean, and we like helping people.”

A brief shiver. Yeah, someone needed to protect these little bundles of sunshine. “I still wanna say it. Also, I really think you’ll like these.”

She’d thought long and hard about which fundamentals would be best for which kid. Or at least, she did as best she could based on the hour or so of interaction she’d had with them.

Chloe got a book on Seidr. The Valkyrie impression had some influence in that.

Adrien got a book on Hedgecraft. How to touch Faerie, how to fight it. Misfortune needed a tiny manipulative streak, and a wielder of it needed to know how to _not be manipulated_.

Marinette… That was the one Louise had put the most thought into. Eventually she’d settled on copying a Per Ankh training manual and making it look mass-produced. The girl’s luck magic was entirely too chaotic for her to use the order-based magic of the Egyptians (any order magic really), but it was also too simple, too direct. The best way to help Marinette was for her and her magic to learn about cause and effect, to minimize effort and maximize results. That kind of refinement would be far off, but the basics would be good for her to learn now.

“Besides, I’ve got a whole library of books like these at home. Mom runs a specialized bookstore, so we’ve got a lot of stuff like this around. Personally I’d rather these be with someone who’ll use them, and hey if you decide you want more just let me know.”

* * *

“Hey!” Juleka looks up at the sound, and there are Marinette and Chloe, just as mad as last time. “Thought we told you to leave Juleka alone?”

The bully sneered at them. “You can’t do anything or you’ll get in trouble.”

Marinette shrugged. “Then we get in trouble.” The redhead with the sketchbook was looking at her like she’d just showed him chocolate cake was a real thing.

(Juleka knew what that looked like because she’d been there when she’d told Adrien. He hadn’t believed her, or any of them, so they’d had to prove it to him. It was a good cake.)

Nino and Kim have noticed what’s happening and are running over from the monkey bars now.

“What! Why do you two even care about a freak like her anyway?”

“Don’t _call_ her that!”

Max looks up at the noise. She’s pretty sure he doesn’t notice he missed when he tried to put his book in his backpack. It’s a kinda warm feeling that she doesn’t think he’d mind. She’s never seen him run before, not even with the sea monster.

“Why shouldn’t I? She is! Just look at her, too much black, and did you know she lives on a boat?”

“Uh, yeah? It’s awesome.”

“Besides, you really can’t talk. _She_ doesn’t smell.” (Chloe might not like her mother, but an important part of being able to escape when the woman tries to get her out of Paris is _paying attention_.)

Most of the other kids have noticed by now. They all know that Marinette and Chloe got in trouble last time. They all pretend nothing’s happening. Juleka curls in on herself because it hurts and she doesn’t quite know why.

A pair of unfamiliar arms wraps around her. A voice she doesn’t know coos softly. Juleka relaxes, faces Veronique again…

As best she can, when did all her friends get between them?

“I don’t smell! My daddy got me a very expensive perfume to help me feel better after you beat me up!”

“Is _that_ what they told you? Honestly you’re pathetic.”

“They probably just wanted a way to know she was coming.”

“You mean the yipping wasn’t enough?” Marinette is, has always been, and will always be, a planner. They’ve discussed how to do this since last time. At length.

“My daddy’s a lawyer, and if you don’t stop, we’ll sue you.” There’s a stillness. A line has just been crossed and everyone knows it. Parents are in play.

Juleka doesn’t know all of her friends parents, but those she does… bakers, a train driver… and her, a musician. Nothing that trumps lawyer, they’ve just…

Chloe runs the same headcount. Considers. Losing here is _not an option_. Losing here will give Veronique free reign to hurt Juleka forever. She takes a steadying breath.

They can’t win. They won’t surrender. They prepare to go down swinging. Marinette gets ready to make it hurt less.

“Oh yeah?”

Anticipation. They don’t know the word, but they will always have a reference point for the emotion.

Except a certain bully. For her? Dread.

“Well my Daddy’s the mayor.”

Silence.

Because the mayor… that trumps _everything_. He’s like, the king of the city, which make Chloe a princess.

“So maybe you wanna say you’re sorry.”

Veronique bursts into tears. She runs off and the story is immortalized in the minds of everyone who definitely didn’t see anything. Whispers float around for months. None of our heroes feel even the slightest hint of victory.

They just watched their friend carve her heart out after all.

Marinette is holding Chloe, and Nino and Kim are making sure none of the other kids can see she’s crying, and a quiet sound of confusion draws Juleka’s attention to the girl holding her.

She’s… small. Not the same way Marinette is, but… small. The word just fits somehow. She’s blonde, but not like Adrien or Chloe either, it’s softer. Less yellow. More brown-ish? Maybe? Blue eyes – big – big blue eyes. And she’s wearing more pink than Marinette.

“Oh!” She jumps back. “I’m sorry, you just looked like you needed a hug, and everyone was busy and shouty and–”

“It’s fine. Thank you.”

“Oh, okay…” Hesitantly. “I’m… I’m Rose.”

“Juleka.”

* * *

“Mme. Cheng, this is the school.”

“Right, what happened this time?”

* * *

“Plagg! No!”

* * *

"Hello? Marinette?"

Adrien wandered through the bakery, as empty as the apartment above, trying to figure out if he'd forgotten something and unable to shake the feeling he was missing an adventure of some sort.

* * *

Juleka was the only one not in trouble. Once she’d gotten home she’d begged her mom to let her go back and stand with her friends like they’d stood with her. Her mother had smiled at her, told her not to worry and to stay with Luka. Then she’d left, looking… Juleka hadn’t seen her maman that angry since the time that guy’d called and said he was Luka’s papa.

Luka was holding her right now, and his eyes were all shiny after she’d told him what happened.

“Yeah, I definitely need to meet these friends of yours.”

* * *

“You told us to use our words. _WE USED OUR WORDS!_ _"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About the background crossover introduced here: I'll keep it minimal.
> 
> A problem I neglected to sove when initially plotting this course is that for these kids to have the magic competency I want them to have later, someone needs to introduce them to magic. For plot reasons I can't have Fu arrive early. I feel a lot of the charm here comes from the fact that the kids don't realize that what they do isn't normal, and the fact that people who enter their orbit start adapting to the crazy only enhances that, so that road's out. I didn't want to create an OC mentor, because I've already got an OC big sister figure lined up (You'll meet her when Sabrina shows up. She's part of the crazy.), and I only know two series with French or French-equivalent magic users well enough to try writing them.
> 
> Using a character from the other would have me feeling like I'm constantly edging towards a Beauxbatons AU. And the tone just doesn't mesh well. Also, there's a universal magic system inherent to that world, which runs counter to a large part where this is heading.
> 
> So yeah. Louise is now on the periphery.
> 
> On an unrelated note, one of the things I'm not sure I showed well despite my best efforts is that the kids have no idea what appropriate threat response is as a concept, let alone in practice. So yeah, the slightly OOC bit there? They don't quite understand that there's a difference between an armed gunman and a schoolyard bully. It runs the other way too. This has consequences. They will learn. Eventually.
> 
> And no, I'm not going to be making a habit of these notes.


	8. Chapter 8

They’re seven.

Marinette borrows some needles and stitches protective symbols into their clothing – They branch out, get more books from Louise, some from the library too – she enjoys it enough to add flourishes, justified as attempts to disguise the symbols.

She finds her passion for sewing and design.

* * *

“We’ve covered most of the relatively unique retro stuff now, which means it’s time to break into platformers…”

* * *

Red.

For the Egyptians, it’s Chaos.

In Europe, Protection from Evil.

In China, Good Fortune.

Marinette considers… and… she’s okay with that. She owns it.

* * *

“Juleka has an older brother?”

“She… never mentioned me?”

“She doesn’t mention much of anything.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? You don’t need to talk to be our friend.”

“Right. You can be as quiet as you wanna be.”

* * *

They meet Rose’s parents.

Marinette does not like Rose’s parents.

Chloe does not like Rose’s parents.

Juleka does not like Rose’s parents.

Kim does not notice Rose has parents.

Max does not like Rose’s parents.

Nino does not like Rose’s parents.

Nathaniel does not like Rose’s parents.

Luka does not like Rose’s parents.

 _Adrien_ does not like Rose’s parents.

Nobody’s quite sure whether or not _Rose_ likes Rose’s parents.

Nobody’s quite willing to ask.

Marinette briefly considers running away with Rose as well. She decides against it. Rose… Rose is soft and quiet and sweet, and there are _reasons_ (instinctive) why they don’t take the others on the Run Away adventures too often. Rose wouldn’t like those adventures, and she wouldn’t fit quite right.

Besides, she has Juleka.

And while Rose’s parents certainly _try_ to be as controlling as Adrien’s Papa used to and Chloe’s (Not?) Maman still acts, they just don’t _pay attention_ enough to be a real problem. As long as they think things are the way they want them to be, they won’t _bother_.

It’s through Rose’s parents that they learn how to lie.

* * *

Green.

Newness. Life. Growth. Grass. Leaves.

Death. Venom. Poison. Acid. Toxins.

Venus Flytraps and Butterfly Orchids.

Adrien accepts it.

* * *

Adrien has a little corner of the gardens near his mother’s. He’s young, often inattentive, makes mistakes, but he turns out to have a surprisingly green thumb. (Louise blinks in shock when she hears that mentioned. She isn’t quite sure how to handle the explanation when she asks.)

Daffodils and Lilacs and Bluebells form a centerpiece.

His mother teases him about planting roses once; The vehemence of his negative response startles her. (He plants a single rosebush six years later.)

He has a fountain put in against the wall with Water Lilies. A picket trellis gate hosts climbing Ivy.

The other two sides of his little garden are the pair of trees he wanted to set up between.

A White Oak and a Rowan.

Eyes on the flowers, nobody notices the wolfsbane, mint, Saint John’s Wort, or mistletoe.

The garden is a classroom for the three as well as a workroom.

They learn about parasites – slugs, snails, grasshoppers, mosquitoes.

They learn about spiders, and how the webs help the garden.

They learn about ants and termites, and how they’ll fight each other to extinction.

They learn about bees and wasps and hornets and yellow jackets, and all the ways they differ, and the few things they have in common.

They learn about ladybugs.

They learn about aphids.

* * *

Yellow.

The gold she came from, resents, and will unquestionably use for the people she cares about.

His hair, flying in the breeze. The honeyed pastries she always has ready for her before she even asks. The Sunlight they dragged her into kicking and screaming.

Butter and Lemons and everything both of those represent.

Chloe claims it.

* * *

They’re at the Hotel.

Again.

They’re rescuing Chloe.

Again.

Mme. Bourgeois is shouting.

Again.

This time that’s meant a chase through the building, but they think they might have lost her as they duck into a service corridor to catch their breath. They’re just smiling at each other inmixed exhilaration and relief when the door bangs open again, forming a barrier with some shelving to trap them in a corner.

“ _Where are they!?_ I saw them come in here, so tell me where they went!”

“Shot right on through, hung a left at the intersection Ma’am.”

They’re only just now noticing the maintenance guy working on the light fixture.

Mme. Bourgeois storms off, leaving the door to echo shut behind her. A few beats, and then the trio step out of their corner.

“Thank you.”

The man snorts. “Y’got nothin’ to thank me for kiddos. Most of us like the little princess there and you two’re good for ‘er. ‘Sides even if they don’t, _everybody_ hates Audrey Bourgeois, and we’d all help just ‘cause you drive her batty.”

Hate.

It’s a word Marinette’s heard before, and she knows what it means, but… She doesn’t think she’s ever heard one person use it on another. It makes her a little uncomfortable. She doesn’t know why. (One day she will.)

Chloe shakes off the odd thoughts that prompted first. “Still, thank you.”

“Anytime kid, anytime.”

* * *

In the end, the next step was totally Louise’s fault.

She’d bumped into the three terrors again for the first time in a few months. Rather, she’d seen them fairly regularly (She made sure to), but this was the first time in a while that she’d seen all three at once.

And while she’d gotten used to the terrifyingly overwhelming power the three had, what she was seeing now was in decided contradiction to everything she knew.

Good Luck, Bad Luck, Will. By all rights, the first two should be coiled around or orbiting the third.

They weren’t.

Instead, the kids had apparently managed to jailbreak the nature of their own magic. Apparently. It was the only thing Louise could think of at least, because there had to be _some_ explanation for what she was seeing.

Their magic had intertwined as she’d expected, but some way, _somehow_ , they’d done so equally.

Will had learned to Yield. Bad Luck had learned to Give. Good Luck had learned to Take.

Which meant that all three were braided together into a single cord that Louise just _knew_ was greater than the sum of its parts, _and the parts were already terrifying!_

She attempted to play off her existential crisis with small talk, latching on to the next thing she noticed in Marinette’s happy chatter.

“Oh? I didn’t know Adrien’s birthday was coming up.” Which was odd, because she should’ve noticed party preparations… maybe they just did a small thing, not like she could hold it against a very public family if they wanted to keep a few things private. “Anything in particular you want?”

Adrien had only really celebrated one birthday (He hadn’t even known it was an important thing until a few months after his first birthday after Marinette when she’d excitedly invited him to _her_ party. She’d dangled Gabriel out a window with paracord around his ankle for that lecture.), he had Marinette and Chloe in his life, and most anything he wanted he could readily get. So, short on ideas, he asked Louise for some.

She promptly (And distractedly) rattled off several typical milestone birthday presents. She did retain enough presence of mind to avoid the more risqué things on that list (Adrien pulling a face when she mentioned birthday kisses helped with that), but was otherwise as unfiltered as an internet search would have been.

So yeah, entirely her fault.

She was eventually interrupted by something she barely noticed, which prompted a subject change, and a few minutes later she made her excuses so she could go find a quiet out of the way corner to have her panic attack in.

* * *

“So, any ideas?”

It was a few weeks later, Adrien’s birthday was almost upon them, and it was again the topic of discussion, though this time the three were alone.

Adrien thought about it. He’d _been_ thinking about it for a while, looking into some of the ideas he’d been given by others. There was one that stuck out to him, and had kept sticking out the more he’d looked into it. “Yeah,” He took a hesitant breath. He hadn’t mentioned this to the girls yet, so he wasn’t quite sure how they’d react.

“I was thinking maybe we could get matching tattoos?”


	9. Chapter 9

It is a well-known and equally well-documented fact that while taking your eyes off a child for more than a second will result in said child vanishing into mischief untold, there is nothing in the world that is quite so conspicuous as a child attempting to be sneaky.

Which is the primary reason why, a few days after Adrien’s birthday, the three found themselves caught in the Agreste Mansion’s foyer.

“Dare I hope the three of you are simply playing Spies and not in fact as guilty as you look?”

Never let it be said that Marinette didn’t know an opening when it was given to her. She looked between Gabriel, where he stood at the top of the stairs with Emilie and Nathalie, and where Adrien and Chloe had frozen on either side of her. “Yes. Yes, you absolutely dare.”

Emilie twitched. Nathalie blinked. Gabriel only paused a moment. “Try again.”

“…These aren’t the kids you’re looking for?”

This time Gabriel’s lip twitched. There was another, lengthier pause, then…

“Mlle. Dupain-Cheng. In the time we’ve known each other you have, your surprising penchant for unheard of and impossible mischief to one side, displayed a degree of maturity that belies your youth. I have come to respect that, and you, to a degree I honestly find myself surprised by. Further, I regularly extend you a great deal of trust; Adrien means everything to Emilie and myself, and we regularly place him in your hands – make no mistake, we would not hesitate to challenge the contract we signed if we thought you were a danger to him. These are the two primary factors in why I am asking you this as if you were an adult.

“I am now asking you to please return that respect and trust. I have seen you get up to and into things that defy logic and sense. I have seen you do things that fly in the face of propriety and societal convention. I have seen you ignore, defy, and bypass rules and authority without a second thought.

“I have _never_ , Marinette Dupain-Cheng, seen you _guilty_.

“So, one last chance. Will you respond in an adult fashion and explain yourselves, or will I need to treat you as children and get your pa–” His eyes darted to Chloe for half a heartbeat. “Mme. Cheng and M. Dupain involved?”

There was a silent staring contest. The clock ticked over and the chiming of the hour could be heard. Some seconds after it finished fading, Gabriel sighed and bowed his head. “I don’t _want_ to be the bad guy…” He looked back up. “I said I trust you Mlle. Dupain-Cheng, and I meant it. If there is nothing going on simply say so – directly and seriously – and I shall let the matter rest and never speak of it again.”

Silence.

Then, just as Gabriel began steeling himself to call in the big guns, Adrien grabbed Marinette’s sleeve and gave it three short tugs. She turned to him and he gave her a hesitant smile. Marinette’s head tilted in thought, then she gave a slow nod and turned to Chloe. Chloe gave a double blink and stepped back; her friends reached out and caught one wrist each to gently but firmly pull her towards them. Once she was between the two, Marinette tilted her head in question. Chloe bounced her head from side to side a bit, bit her lower lip, and glanced between the adults at the top of the stairs and Adrien. The other two folded her into a hug, and she felt Adrien nod against the side of her head as he rubbed her back. Chloe pulled back just enough to look at him. He gave her a reassuring smile and tipped his head, soft to one side and back just enough to expose his throat. Chloe took a breath, poked Marinette’s cheek to get her attention, swallowed, and nodded.

* * *

A pair of old men were playing chess in the park, the same way they had every Saturday for the past sixty years. One of them was telling the other a bit of gossip he’d heard from his wife, about the bank across the road, and how instead of the usual chiming, they were updating the clock to play different voice recordings on the hour.

**_ “You got a WHAT!?”  _ **

“Huh. Can’t say much fer the script, but the dame they got to voice it sure sounds nice.”

“That’s when you know she’s a real high-class lady, when she’s spittin’ mad and still pretty.”

“Yup. Wonder what else they’ll have her say?”

* * *

Roger was on his way out of the precinct. His shift had just ended, and he was looking forward to spending the afternoon with his daughter. He had paused in his departure to chat with the guy at the front desk – Timothee, though some part of Roger would always remember him as the kid who’d put the third picture on the Runaway Board.

“…should really spend time with your little girl more often.”

Roger strangles the instinctive irritation. He knows what the kid’s home life was like, _why_ Timothee joined the force. (Why he still flinches at sudden movement and loud noises. Why he always puts himself between anyone else and danger.) He knows where this is coming from. He sighs. “Probably. It’s just… I feel guilty you know?” He wouldn’t discuss this with most of his other coworkers. Most of them wouldn’t understand. “She’s probably never going to see her mother again, and it’s my fault.”

“Honestly? That’s part of _why_ you should spend more time with her. It’s for your sake too.”

(On the one hand, parenting advice from a kid in his late teens. On the other, parenting advice from a guy who’d been parenting his siblings almost as long as Sabrina’s been alive, and who’d been doing it alone a _lot_ longer than Roger had.) “Maybe… no, you’re right; I know you’re right, it’s just… hard to deal with.” How had they gotten on this depressing topic? “Most of the time it’s just easier to lose myself in my work and pretend the pain away and tell myself she doesn’t really need me smothering her. Does… does that make me a bad parent?”

The last part was a whisper. There were exactly three people in the world Roger would have been willing to confess his secret fear to, and his relationship with the other two was such that the subject wouldn’t ever really come up.

The clerk’s response however was preempted.

**_ “You got a WHAT!?”  _ **

They both knew that voice. The entire _precinct_ , probably knew that voice, but they were both attached to that on-again-off-again not-technically-cold-but-we’re-treating-it-like-it-might-be case-in-name-only, so they in particular knew that voice well.

“You’re on vacation for the next two weeks, the paperwork was filed yesterday, and you were out the door twenty minutes ago.”

“Thanks Tim, you’re a wonder!”

“Yeah, yeah, y’old…” He shook his head and grinned a fond grin.

* * *

Tom and Sabine were in the kitchen prepping a late lunch while Miriam and Cosette girled the front. They were chatting idly, telling each other gossip that they both already knew at least half of – the way they were wont to do on the occasional slow Saturday afternoon.

Tom had just made a comment about how quiet it was around the house that gave Sabine pause, and her stillness drew Tom’s attention more fully.

“Tom…” Sabine began hesitantly, “Marinette’s really only here something like half the time, but she’s doing well by just about any standard – she’s certainly more independent and responsible than I was at her age – and the bakery’s doing very well – I’m sure it’s at least partially her fault that most of the police in Paris are regulars now – and I’ve been wondering, do you ever think maybe we should try for–”

**_ “You got a WHAT!?”  _ **

“…On second thought, best wait a bit, see where things stand in a few years. Hopefully Marinette will be old enough to help with the additional responsibilities by then.”

Tom was visibly restraining his mirth. “We can hope at least. Good to know the Agrestes are taking a turn parenting. Maybe if we can get Chloe’s parents to pick up some slack we’ll have time to relax.”

“Tom.” The tone was just the right kind of gentle to kill all joviality instantly. “Audrey Bourgeois is allowed to shape those children _over my dead body_.” The last four words were delivered in a snarl that promised hers would not be the only one.

* * *

It came to be known as “The Shout Heard Round the Town.”

* * *

Gabriel suddenly found himself with a headache. Nathalie had dived around the corner and Chloe was now hiding behind Marinette, who was… Openly gaping. That’s right, Marinette had never seen an upset Emilie before. It was an admittedly rare phenomenon to begin with, and the girl’s antics usually served to _amuse_ Emilie rather than _annoy_ her.

Adrien meanwhile displayed a truly _stunning_ lack of self-preservation instincts. He had apparently missed Emilie’s tone for her volume and was happily trotting out the story like a prize-winning thoroughbred.

“Uh-Huh! We told Nathaniel what we wanted and he drew it, and Marinette helped, and we borrowed some of Papa’s needles ‘cause Marinette’s were all too big, and Luka and Juleka and Rose all helped us pick colors’n’stuff, and Nino and Kim and Max all helped us find the ink, and we thought about having Luka do it ‘cause he writes best, but we decided we should do each other so it was just that much more special!”

Emilie fainted, which at least forestalled _one_ of the immediate problems. Gabriel caught her and hefted her into a bridal carry before passing her off to Nathalie, who had suddenly found her courage fully restored to her.

“May I see them?”

“Huh?”

“Your tattoos. May I see them?” If they were small and Adrien was simply overly impressed (unlikely), then they could simply be hidden by application of clothing and makeup, otherwise he might need to convince the children to let a professional… enhance? No, that might imply he was deriding the “specialness” of them doing things “for each other,” and he’d learned long ago that that was a bad idea.

He’d sort it out later, Adrien was beaming at him, how had he gotten that reaction and how could he do so again?

“Of course!” The boy lifted his shirt over his head so fast he got his head caught and tripped. The girls caught him and helped him get disentangled and shirtless more effectively. Gabriel elbowed that particular errant thought aside violently.

He focused on the back his son was proudly displaying and sucked in a breath through his teeth.

He was looking at Adrien.

Well, obviously, but…

Magic.

He’d known they were dabbling in it. He was a _fashion designer_ ; of course he’d noticed when they’d added red embroidery to everything they owned. He’d taken the chance to examine some samples and found symbols he knew and recognized woven into designs in a fashion quite clever for children their age. And while the stuffed tentacle hanging on Adrien’s bedroom wall was fulfilling its intended purpose, he had heard stories about what happened when the children slept in a bedroom not their own, so he said nothing about the small stockpile of salt, chalk, and jingle bells he knew Adrien kept in the back of his closet.

He had _not_ known that they’d gone this far. He wasn’t quite sure _how_ they’d gone this far.

It was simple, at least at first glance. A triskelion overlaid with a triquetra provided the basic form, and then images were slipped into the spaces outlined like panels in a stained glass window, and placed around the whole like the hybrid offspring of a children’s book’s illustrations and an illuminated manuscript.

The simplicity was elegant. It was also deceptive.

The spirals of the triskelion ended by merging with the triquetra’s circle. The two invisible triangles the symbols formed were inverted across each other, and since it was implied rather than stated, Gabriel had a feeling the alchemical meaning was taking precedence over the religious one here. The images in and around the primary symbol were all things Adrien loved, little parts of him that were of particular importance. The geometry was perfect in a way that was either unnaturally natural or supernaturally so.

His gaze flicked away to where the girls had turned and lifted the backs of their shirts to their shoulders to show him their tattoos, which, insofar as he could tell, played by the same rules. He did note that the primary symbol was rotated for each of them so that a different colored spiral was pointing down, Green for Adrien, Red for Mlle. Dupain-Cheng, and Yellow for Mlle. Bourgeois.

He returned his attention to Adrien.

The symbols they had carved into their backs bound them to each other. That was not the only thing they’d bound though. It was brilliant, and he didn’t think anyone would’ve ever been able to do it deliberately, but the tattoos were representations, images of pieces arranged to create a complete image of their whole selves.

Because that’s what the empty parts were, bits of themselves that didn’t exist just yet. Parts and pieces they hadn’t grown into. Taken as a whole, the marks on their backs were images of _them_.

The principle of similarity was thus invoked.

It defied everything.

It fit too well to be anything else.

It worked, but only because it was them.

“Well,” He heard himself say from the other end of a tunnel, “At the very least, they are not visually unappealing.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tattoos were supposed to be a footnote at this stage, how exactly did they wind up taking over two chapters?

“Mother. We need to talk.”

Gina paused. The last time she’d heard her son take that tone… She took her sunglasses off slowly. “Alright. You want me to come in or should we do this out here?”

“Come in.” Tom hesitated. “Please.”

His mother followed, forcing herself to remain casual as she glanced around the house, deliberately not taking everything in like it might be her last time here. “How are Sabine and Marinetta?”

Tom hesitated. He was doing that a lot today. That was not a good sign. “They’re doing alright. I… asked them to be out of the house this afternoon since we knew you were coming, figured it’d be best to keep this conversation private.”

Gina felt her mouth go dry. “Oh? Well, we’d best get it over with so I can say hello to them too.” Or to not draw out the pain, either or.

“Marinette turns eight next week.”

“I… know? It’s why I’m in Paris?” For just a moment, she lets herself pretend Tom’s about to let her in on some surprise plans. Just a moment.

“Adrien turned eight recently as well.”

She knows Adrien, and not just in the way grandmothers know their grandchildren’s friends. The way he and Chloe are attached at the hip to Marinette, Gina might as well have three grandchildren instead of the one. (They’ve let things slip about their home lives. Gina may or may not have picked up falsified identity documents for the children that she keeps in a bank deposit box just in case.) “Now that, I hadn’t realized.” She frowns. She _knows_ how important Chloe and Adrien are to Marinette, she had _thought_ she cared for the two as well, but now she’s suddenly questioning this.

Tom looks… almost relieved at that. And Gina hates herself for suddenly hoping that something’s wrong with the children, but if Tom’s coming to her like this then that means she can _help_ , and he won’t be asking her to…

“Yes, well, not many people do. Marinette threw his party last year, and this year we helped, but apparently missed part of the planning.”

“What happened?” How many of her old friends were still in Paris, and how many of the rest could get here or swing some influence her way? The guy she’d used to know in the police was more _his_ friend than hers, so getting someone to drop charges might be a bit tricky, but…

“The children decided it would be a good idea to get matching tattoos.”

Gina’s train of thought hit the curve too fast and jumped the tracks.

* * *

Gabriel had informed Tom and Sabine of the tattoos. He had also asked them not to be too hard on the children, both in light of the conversation he’d had with them when they’d admitted it to him, and because Emilie was… not taking it well.

The actress had known on some level what the children were getting up to, but it was just so far removed from any of her experience that it never seemed quite _real_. It was all monsters and adventures and lofty imaginings and it was charming in a childish way, but even when it was happening right in front of her it was quite unbelievable, so she didn’t.

And then tattoos.

And…

And now She was in a near permanent state of hysterics over how her son was getting tattoos and piercings were next and someday he’d be wearing leather and clubbing people in back alleys with pipes and rebar, and once he was a hoodlum it was only a matter of time before he degenerated into drugs and even before that he’d probably be having sex with the girls and get at least one of them pregnant as teenagers and it was all her fault for not noticing he was changing and she was a terrible mother and…

Personally Gabriel thought she was overreacting, but he’d been known to be out of touch with these things before. Still, he just couldn’t find the idea of Adrien running around dressed in leather and getting in fights wielding metal rods to be anything but ridiculous in the extreme.

He _had_ gambled what parental authority he still possessed on banning the children from the Couffaines’ boat for the next month. He had also visited said boat, in person, to ask his primary suspect for Instigator what she had to do with this. Her surprise seemed genuine, and Gabriel didn’t know of any other undesirables the children associated with. He also knew that asking would get him nowhere, the children knew they were in trouble but felt they had done no wrong, so they would invariably protect whoever had spawned this idea – presuming it wasn’t one of the three themselves in a particularly inadvisable moment.

None of them saw fit to inform Audrey or Andre.

They never noticed.

* * *

“Hi Louise!”

“Hi… guys.” Louise’s smile was slightly rigid. She had noticed a pattern. Encountering any one or two of the kids was fine to some extent, but all three together invariably spelled trouble.

And now they had roughly half-a-dozen _more_ kids in tow, though thankfully Louise couldn’t sense any magic from the rest. (Then again, with all three of them in front of her it wouldn’t exactly be hard to miss… much of anything really.)

Marinette and Adrien were cheerily nattering away at her in typical fashion, and Louise tuned back in just in time to hear something that gave her pause.

“Wait, back up. You guys got _tattoos_?”

“Uh-Huh. You said sometimes people get tattoos for birthdays and stuff, so we decided we should do that.”

She had? When? No, really, if they said she’d said it, she believed them; she would just like to know _when she’d thought it wise to give these kids ideas!_

“Oh. That’s nice.”

“Wanna see?”

“Uh. Sure.”

And just like that, Chloe and Marinette had Adrien’s shirt off and he was showing her his back and – good hell, what had she _done_!?

Distantly, Louise realized that the strangled keening sound she was hearing was _her_.

* * *

Vincente blinked at the man who had introduced himself as a representative of a particular gaming company. “Oh…kay? Anything I can help you with?”

“You know of course, that Mecha Strike Air, like all of our arcade release Mecha Strike Franchise Games, is tied to a global leaderboard. Our company tracks global scoring as part of the feedback we use to improve future games, and the score reporting from the unit in this arcade has been… anomalous.”

“Ooooohhh. Okay, yeah, I think we actually might’ve been expecting you after all. One sec.” The teenage boy pulled a walkie-talkie from under the counter. “Anyone got eyes on the Triple Threat? I’ve got a guy here about them breaking his leaderboards.” A muddled set of responses came back, and the young man’s face lit up. “Great, I’ll show him there, someone come cover the ticket counter for me.” So saying he tossed the radio, planted a hand, and _vaulted_ over the display case rather than go around. “C’mon, this way. You’re in for a real treat.”

They made their way through the arcade, Vincente regaling the man with stories about this “Triple Threat.” Which at least told him his job would be simpler – a player finding an exploit was much easier to handle than an arcade illegally modifying code. Depending on what it was, they would likely either patch it or turn it into a feature. The player may even get a job offer.

They found themselves at a DDR machine that had quite the crowd gathered, though Vincente was able to cut his way through with surprising ease, so the representative simply slipped past in his wake.

“There they are.” It wasn’t a whisper; such wouldn’t have carried over the general noise. Still, it managed to convey a combination of unholy glee and outright _reverence_. He turned his attention to the players, and…

Stared.

There were three of them, using two dance pads. He worked for a game development company, and specifically dealt with some of the world’s best players. He _knew_ what it took to tandem DDR. And that was _simple_. Oh, it was incredibly difficult, of course. But the nature of the game made synchronizing movements comparatively easy, and it was simply learning how to time the swaps after that.

This… This was _not_ synchronized dancing.

This was three kids, dancing through a chaotic jumbled mess, and constantly keeping track of the other two, and the board, without missing a single beat or tripping over each other _once_. More than that, he realized, they were actively using each other to balance their movements, and – his thoughts halted as the boy picked up the blonde girl, spun her so she could rapidly tap two steps out, _dipped_ her so she could hit a step with her hand, and then passed her to the other girl, who braced the blonde’s feet on the railing and _tossed_ her almost like a cheerleader so that the blonde swung up onto the railing three beats later his heart stopped as the blonde tipped back after not _quite_ making it, only for it to be revealed that this was _deliberate_ , as the girl on the ground caught her friend _without looking_ , and sidestepped as she swung the blonde behind her back so they could hit opposite points.

Dazedly, he turned to his guide. “Right, I… I’ll probably need to record them playing, but I don’t think we’ll have a problem.”

* * *

“Nonna!”

“Hello my little fairy!” Was that a flinch? Regardless, Gina wrapped her granddaughter in a hug. She glanced up at the pair of blondes trying to decide whether or not to dodge back through the trapdoor. “You two as well, come, come.”

They exchange greetings, and Gina smiles and follows along as best she can as they regale her with their most recent adventures. It’s only when a natural break is reached that she gently asks, “Now what’s this I hear about you three getting tattoos?”

This prompted them to show her, and she found herself sucking in a breath.

She had not snooped. The kids needed to feel trusted and fairly dealt with right now, and so she had, very deliberately, _not snooped._

But she had wondered. At the dreamcatcher, and the hanging crystals, and the wind chimes and bells, and the small window box full of faebane and protective herbs. Because while she’d not inherited her own grandmother’s talent (And however many greats were being dropped there she was never quite sure), she had _remembered_. How could she not? She’d spent more summers helping her grandmother – Gina shook off the nostalgia.

Marinette, _her_ little Marinetta (And now she knew why she’d flinched at being called a fairy), had inked symbols on her back that had more meaning than she realized Tom knew.

So.

Now all that remained was figuring out _who_ , exactly, had decided to endanger these darlings by giving them _magic_.

* * *

“Louise, are you in – _Louise!_ Explain yourself!”

The girl in question blearily looked between her mother and the half-drunk bottle of alcohol. “We’re French. I needed it.” She gave a hiccup.

Her mother sighed. “Well, thank goodness you’re a lightweight. Honestly, I just put this up last month. I’m not sure it even counts as fermented yet.” She gave her daughter a hard look. “We will be talking about this when you’re sober.”

Louise hiccupped again.

* * *

The children have gone to bed in Marinette’s room when Gina wanders into the apartment kitchen, unable to unsee the symbols on their skins.

“Tom.”

Three in one and one in three and harmony and unity and… they aren’t “her granddaughter’s friends” that she's planning to help co-opt anymore.

“When, exactly, are Adrien and Chloe’s birthdays?”

Those kids are family now.

* * *

“So, Louise, care to explain why I found you slumped on the table last night drunk off a half-bottle of partially fermented nettle wine?”

“I… I screwed up Mama.”

“Your kids again?”

“Uh-huh. I… They’re so _powerful_ mama, so _bright_. And so, so innocent. And I’m… me.”

“You’ve said so before. We’ve had entire conversations on the subject. You’ve never decided alcohol was a good escape before.”

“They… they keep breaking rules mama. Not like… not the little ones, the ‘don’t do this’ ones, but big ones. Stuff that nobody should be able to do.

“A few months ago, I realized they’d… Mama, they’d fundamentally changed their own magic. They’d woven it together and it was impossible, and beautiful, and _terrifying_. They shouldn’t be able to balance the way they do, and it still doesn’t make sense, and they asked me for advice for a birthday present, and I rambled at them and don’t remember a word I said, but they sure do, because apparently I told them getting tattoos was a good idea, so they _went and did it_.”

Well, that explained a bit. “Oh Louise… I know it can be difficult to realize someone trusts you that much – it certainly scared me when I realized it about you and your sisters.” Karin has never let her daughters see her weaknesses. She is now wondering if that might have been a mistake, but there is truly no way she could have foreseen these particular circumstances.

“That’s not even the worst of it Mama.” It wasn’t? Oh dear. “They wanted it to be special, so they went looking through the symbols they knew. Matching triquetras interwoven with color-coded triskelions.” Oh _dear_. “And to top it all off, they decided to elaborate the designs with the things that were _special_ to each of them.” Louise looked up at her mother. “Their True Names are _bound into their skins_ , they readily show this to anyone who asks because they don’t know any better, and none of this is as dangerous as it should be even if their names weren’t bound, because _you can’t pronounce images_.”

Oh.

Oh shit.

Karin did _not_ feel faint. She did however, need to sit down.

* * *

Marinette’s birthday came and went, and it was time for Gina to leave. As everyone was saying their goodbyes, “Nonna” slipped out of Chloe’s mouth.

Everyone was staring. The poor girl looked horrified at what she’d said; completely sure she’d irrevocably offended an important member of Marinette’s family.

The silence was broken when Gina outright _cackled_. “Yes! Finally! I got ‘er!” She revved her bike. “I’ll be back for your birthday Chloe. You’re next Adrien!”

And with that, she was off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looking at this again in the light of day, I'm... actually slightly embarrasssed by how many things I needed to go back and fix. Apparently I need to stop posting in the small hours of the morning.


	11. Chapter 11

“…so long as you live under _my_ roof…”

* * *

“I hate my family.”

Rose’s defeated statement is not without cause; they’ve just removed her from her home again, wooden smiles and glass masks as they smiled and nodded to lull the Lavillants into complacency that all is ass they think it should be. It’s still surprising, not because nobody agrees per say, but nobody was quite sure how _she_ felt, and none of them wanted to be the one to ask. Also…

“What did we do!?” Adrien is on the verge of tears.

“What? No! Not you guys, my parents!”

Chloe scoffs at that. “Please. Those idiots aren’t your family. They’re like… like… They’re like Mme. Bourgeois. They might be your parents, but _we’re_ your family.” She gestures to the group as a whole, who chorus their affirmation.

 _That_ brings Rose up short. “You’re my… you guys… do you… really mean it?”

Marinette’s heart hurts. She has to remind herself again that Rose already has Juleka and now Luka for the close stuff, and while she’d hoped since Adrien’s Papa was finally learning how to not be mean she’d be able to work on Rose’s parents too, now Adrien’s Maman was being weird, and… and there are ten and three quarters _million_ people in Paris according to the library, and she just… she can’t run away with that many kids.

She wishes she could. She wishes that _so badly_. But something tells her trying is a _really_ bad idea, and she gets in enough trouble with the good ones.

Still.

She’s the one who steps forward and pulls Rose into a hug. “Oh Rose. Of course we do. You are _ours_.”

* * *

“Hey Max? D’you think you can help us with something?”

* * *

Gina’s back in town for Chloe’s birthday. The Bourgeois adults threw an official party that the guest of honor never bothered to show up for, but Tom and Sabine closed the bakery early and they’ve set up in the local park which is surprisingly full.

The trio wasn’t allowed quite so much freedom in planning after Adrien’s party, but they _had_ been mostly in charge of the guest list. So, when Gina heard them say they’d invited all their friends, she’d thought, much like she suspected her son and daughter-in-law had, that they’d been referring to the usual suspects.

Which, to be fair, they _had_ been, it’s just that there were quite a few people _beyond_ that.

Older teens they apparently knew from the arcade. A few of the younger members of the local library’s staff. A little blonde boy about the children’s age with an American accent, a stuffed tiger, and a black haired girl who was following him around and alternating between yelling at him in English and apologizing for him in French. A few police officers who had apparently become family friends through the whole runaway thing. A ladder truck crew she wasn’t sure she wanted to know _how_ they’d met. Dozens of other people, each one no doubt a set of stories and adventures, and Gina couldn’t help but smile.

That smile faded slightly as she noticed another partygoer. Gina could hardly comment on the pink hair – her own had been silver from the day she was born after all. Still, while she could have reasoned it as being the girl’s body language, or the things she was focusing on, or the way she wasn’t so much hiding _by_ the drinks table as _behind_ it, Gina was honest enough with herself at least to know what really put her on edge.

This girl reminded her of her however-many-great-grandmother.

And so Gina did what any responsible concerned grandmother would do.

She ambushed the girl.

* * *

“So you’re the one who introduced them to magic.”

Louise spun, the professed ignorance dying on her tongue as she met the woman’s eyes. She briefly considered running, but the table that had been shielding her from the party was now a barrier to her escape.

She deflated. “Not exactly.”

That got a raised eyebrow. “And just what’s that mean? Either you did or didn’t.”

She searched the woman’s face for a moment. “You don’t have the Sight, do you?”

Lips pressed into a hard line. “…No.”

She sighed. “You wouldn’t know then. I didn’t give them magic; they’ve had it as long as I’ve known them. And they’ve got a lot too. Like, I-can’t-use-my-Sight-when-they’re-in-range-because-they’ll-blind-me a lot. And they didn’t know how to use it so it was just doing whatever it wanted, and I’d say I don’t know how they’ve survived this long, but I’m pretty sure if one of them died the other two would just tear a hole to the afterlife to bring them back.

“Still not sure why _I’m_ the first one they found, but… That’s how it was, I basically tripped over these three kids with magic that makes everything I’ve ever seen _pale_ , and none of them had an ounce of training. It was only a matter of time before something or someone took advantage of them, and I just… I couldn’t leave them like that.” She snorted. “Literally, because of my oaths and the way their magic latched onto mine, but… I’d like to think I would have helped anyway. I want to believe I’m a good enough person for that.”

Silence. “Thank you for looking out for them.”

“Of course.”

“Anything I should watch for?”

“Their alignments are Good Luck, Bad Luck, and Will, so everything mostly sorts itself out.”

“And when you say they’re powerful…”

“Ever hear of Tyche?”

* * *

A continent away, a ladybug sneezed.

* * *

“Sir? I’ve been looking over the finances and there’s something you should see…”

* * *

“You guys?” It’s another sunny afternoon and they’re on another hill in the shade of another tree in another park.

“Yeah Rose?”

“You know how you said you’re all my real family?” And so Rose opens herself up and finds herself explaining her fears and worries and insecurities. Everyone is very quick to shoot down the idea that she’s not good enough for them. They all insist that even if her parents catch on, they’ll never be able to take her away.

“When you stood up to Veronique with us that first time, you weren’t one of us yet, and you were the _only one_ who wasn’t one of us that stood up and helped me.”

“If Mme. Bourgeois dragging me to New York wasn’t enough to make us give up, then nowhere your parents go and nothing they do will keep us from coming to get you.”

“I… I know you guys are my real family because you’ve said so, but… it’s just, it’s hard to remember sometimes, especially when I’m with my… my parents.” Chloe has long since started referring to her mother by her name instead of their relationship. Rose isn’t quite ready for that yet.

“So let’s give you a reminder.” Adrien sits up, uncaring of the grass in his hair. “What do you think would help you remember when we’re not there to tell you?”

That prompts a discussion, because she’s not been on any of the group Adventures yet, and the few times she’s run away with the three, not much has really happened, and there have been plenty of quiet afternoons like this, but they don’t exactly leave much in the way of souvenirs, and school’s out because she and Nathaniel are in a different class than the others and Luka and Adrien aren’t there _at all_ …

In short, there’s really only one group project she’s ever been involved in that works for this.

They leave out the colors – those belong to the trio and them alone. They leave out the detailing too (They might go back and add some later, but that’s not really the point of this one). They swap the white for black because Rose’s skin is so pale they’re afraid it’ll wash out.

That just leaves location.

Hands, arms, and legs are out, because they don’t want her parents to see it. They regularly force her into dresses that include lace, so everything above the waist is similarly eliminated. Feet are out too because open toed shoes are just as common. There is a decidedly limited amount of real estate left.

Such it is that the entire group vanishes that night, and they hole up in the manager’s office of an abandoned warehouse. Most of them spread out to stand guard. Rose takes off her skirt, leggings, and panties, pulls up the hem of her blouse, and lies down on the towel they’ve spread out. Juleka kneels on the ground next to her and holds her hand. Marinette kneels on Rose’s other side with the needles they’ve prepared and black ink and etches a mark onto Rose’s right hip.

Triquetra and triskelion.

They go to sleep that night in a tangles pile of blankets and sleeping bags and one air mattress that shouldn’t really hold them all. And Rose sleeps deeper and more peacefully than she ever has, cuddled by her friends and cradled by the knowledge that she belongs to them. That she has permanently bound herself to them by taking their symbol onto her flesh.

She is now and forever, one of them.

* * *

In a field outside Margny, something wakes.

* * *

“Nathalie, this doesn’t surprise me. I know why it doesn’t surprise me, but it should still surprise me regardless. There is something _very wrong_ with the fact that this doesn’t surprise me.”

* * *

“Marinette.” Tom had to choke back a few tears, lest his pride overwhelm him. He and his daughter are sitting seiza (or their best approximations of it anyway) before the TV and game consoles in the living room. “Our video game lessons are finished. You’ve learned all I know, and I have nothing left to teach you.”

Marinette gave him a Serious Nod. “Thank you for teaching me Papa.”

“You have learned well. It was my pleasure.”

* * *

“Mama Sabine?”

The woman in question turned from where she was buttering garlic bread for dinner to the girl standing nervously at her side. “Yes Chloe?”

“You… You said I can talk to you about… about anything, right?”

“Of course Chloe.”

“That means _anything_ anything, right? Not just like anything about baking, or…”

“It means anything about anything Chloe. I might not know the answer, but you’re still welcome to ask.”

The blonde took a breath. “So, umm… How do I let a… a boy know I like him? Like, _like_ like him?” She pinked.

Most women would be amused. Sabine was not. There were _reasons_ why Chloe had to ask, and had to ask _her_. “Well, at your age boys are kind of silly about these things. Sometimes you can just tell them and they’ll get it, but most girls just go the direct route and kiss the boy they like.” Chloe had gone past pink and was now firmly red.

“And how, uh…” She paused, reddened further. “How does A– uh, a _boy_ let a girl know he likes her?”

For this one, a hint of amusement did creep up. “You remember how I said boys your age are silly about these things. _They_ tend to pull a girl’s pigtails instead.”

Chloe’s face scrunched up. “So… pulling a girl’s pigtails… tells her you like her?”

“Or ponytail, or ringlets, or just hair in general, but yes. I know it doesn’t make a terrible amount of sense, but that’s how it’s generally understood.” Sabine gave the girl a moment to process. “Do you have any other questions Chloe dear?”

“Mmmm… Nope! That was all. Thank you Mama Sabine.”

“You are quite welcome Chloe. I’m here for you whenever you need me.”

The eight-year-old wandered off and Sabine returned to preparing dinner, idly wondering which boy had –

Oh.

Oh no.

This… this could turn Very Bad, Very Fast.

She rushed up the stairs – the old ladder had been broken and subsequently replaced and Sabine was suddenly grateful because she was able to get up just that little bit faster – and burst through Marinette’s trapdoor just in time to see Chloe plant a kiss right on Adrien’s lips.

Okay. Okay. This wasn’t necessarily _bad_ , just _delicate_. She just needed to make sure things were handled well. She was still bracing herself for reactions and planning for fallout when the record scratched.

Chloe stepped away from a stunned Adrien, walked to a _very_ stunned Marinette, shyly reached out, and gently but firmly gave her nearer pigtail a tug.

Oh.

Well then.

On the one hand, this simplified… almost all of the problems she was expecting. On the other, it made all the others _infinitely more complicated_.

Unnoticed, she backed down to go get Tom. Their children were going to need more help sorting this one out than she could provide alone.

In hindsight though, she felt like she really should have seen this coming.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gets a little heavy. Apologies to those who read this for the lighthearted fun. Fluff was implmented in an attempt to brighten things.  
> Next chapter will be worse. Specifically, the next chapter is going to be, if not the heaviest part of this story, then certainly the darkest. I convey similar apologies in advance, especially considering there isn't much I'll be able to do to soften the blow.  
> Brace yourselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I acknowledge in advance that I know next to nothing about alcohol, and what I do know is entirely second-hand at best. Feel free to let me know if I got something wrong.

Sabine trundles through the door with a bundle of clean laundry and gives an acknowledging nod to the woman sitting on the couch before popping up the stairs to drop the clean clothes off in Marinette’s room. When she comes back down, the woman hesitantly raises a hand, which triggers a reflexive customer service “Be with you in a moment dear” as Sabine opens the door to the rest of the apartment.

Wait.

She freezes, holds for a heartbeat, then closes the door she’s just opened and turns to face the (decidedly amused) stranger in her living room. “Who are you and how did y… no… M-Marinette?”

Her daughter – some fifteen years older, but still definitely her daughter – smiles and gives her a wave. “Hi Maman.”

“Oh, Oh baby girl, what _happened_ to you?”

Marinette blinks, looks down at herself, and then looks back up in realization. “Oh, no. No Maman, nothing like that. Time travel. I’m from the future. Your tiny Marinette is still running around. Somewhere.”

“Ohthankgoodness.” It comes out in a rush, and Sabine decides not to think too hard about the relief she’s feeling at finding she _didn’t_ somehow miss a decade and a half of her daughter’s life. “So what brings you all the way back here sweetheart?”

“Well… there’s this guy.” She waves off Sabine’s immediate look of concern. “Not like that. He’s a time traveler, and he’s planning on messing a few things up. You know my American friends? They’ve got a time machine and we’re trying to use it to stop him, which means they’re involved because it’s _their_ machine, which means _I’m_ involved because I’m the one who called them in, and I… took advantage of that to do something rather selfish.”

Sabine’s smile fades. “I see. I won’t ask how, but how long has it been for you?”

Blink. Blink. “Oh! Maman, no! You’re alive, you are _very much_ alive, this is not me popping back to say goodbye or get closure, or, or anything like that, good grief, is this what people mean when they say I always jump to the worst conclusions?”

“Oh. So, uh, what _are_ you here for then? For that matter, how did you get in? I’m sure we must have changed the locks at least once by your point in time.”

“That second one’s not so hard. A… a friend of ours who I’m just now realizing I shouldn’t mention because Tinynette hasn’t met her yet is showing off and does something stupid on a dare that gets her stuck in an old steamer trunk. It took us _hours_ to get her out, so we all learned how to pick locks after that.

“As for why I’m here… The future’s _good_ Maman. It takes us awhile to get there, and there’re a few hard parts along the way, but… it is so, _so_ good. And this guy… he wants to take all that away. And we’re going to stop him, I know we are, but… but I’m scared Maman. I’m scared we might lose, or we’ll win and it still won’t be enough, and… I-I can’t let that happen.

“So. So I grabbed the most important things, the best parts of the future, the one’s we can’t afford to lose, and I’m hiding them, here in the past, further back than he’s going to go, where they’ll be safe from any changes he makes. Once we win, I’ll come back and pick all of them up again and take them back to the future where they belong. And if we lose… they’ll be safe here, nobody would come looking, they wouldn’t know to.”

“Alright then. What do you need me to take care of for you sweetheart?” Because she might not be able to help her daughter’s future self to take down a rogue time traveler, but she can absolutely do _this_ for her.

And Marinette gives her a soft and knowing smile, like she’d heard exactly what Sabine had just thought, as she reaches down to the side of the couch and lifts into view –

Oh.

Oh.

It’s a baby carrier, the kind that can be strapped into a car. And there, nestled inside is one of the most beautiful things Sabine has ever seen.

“Her name is Angelina Louise Dupain-Cheng.”

* * *

Tom opens the door to find a harried fashion mogul on his step.

“M. Dupain.”

“M. Agreste.” Tom steps back and motions the smaller man to enter. “Please, come in. Is there anything I can get you?”

“Something very alcoholic would be much appreciated, yes.”

Well _that_ wasn’t worrisome at all. “We’ve got a few wines, though if you want something stronger I think we’ve got some whiskey and bourbon. My mother _might_ have left some vodka last time she visited, but I’d have to check.”

“Vodka sounds excellent right about now, but it would probably be best if I stuck to bourbon. I do need to get home at a reasonable hour after all.”

Tom gives the man a kindly smile and gestures for him to sit at the counter. A few moments later, two tumblers have ice in them and the baker’s poured them each a couple fingers. He responds to the designer’s raised eyebrow with, “You look like you’re in a sharing mood, and if you need it, then I definitely will. Besides, it’d be poor hospitality to let you drink alone.”

Gabriel gave him a grateful smile, lifted his glass to him, and then drained half his drink in one pull before watching the rest as he idly swirled it. “I think it might really be my fault you know. When your daughter first ran off with Adrien, she stormed her way into our lives like a hurricane, and I reacted… poorly. I saw her as a threat, and then as their adventures continued, as an instigator. I’m quite sure I must have blown a number of things completely out of proportion in my panic.

“Which left Emilie to be the reasonable one, and accounting for my bias certainly didn’t help her realize how much was actually happening.”

“This is about the tattoos then.”

Gabriel shook his head. “No. They were merely the catalyst. A real, permanent action and consequence that Emilie actually had context for. And her initial reaction of blind panic likely would have died down eventually, except she tried to exert her parental authority on the matter, and… well, we really don’t have much of that left anymore. Between what your daughter’s actively eroded, deliberately stolen, unknowingly worn down, and had us sign away, I’m actually slightly surprised we’ve any at all.

“I… don’t regret that honestly. Emilie is an absolute angel, the light of my life, and easily one of the best people I know. But a good person is not necessarily a good parent. I am neither, and while Emilie loves Adrien just as dearly as I do, she is, ultimately, not quite so ready to deal with the realities of parenthood as we had once believed. Neither of us is really. Honestly, I look back and can’t help but think we were naïve. Do you know, we actually thought that with all our money and resources, it would be _easy_ for us?”

Tom hummed. “I think that might be universal. Sabine and I definitely weren’t as ready as we thought we were.”

“Yes, but you actually were ready. Or at the very least, rose to the challenge in ways that Emilie and I simply haven’t.” He sighed, finished his glass, and set it down. As Tom refilled it, he picked up again, “I’m grateful you know. To you and your wife. I’m not sure I’ve ever said it, but I’m glad Adrien’s had you to turn to when Emilie and I haven’t measured up.”

“He’s a good lad. Helping him isn’t something you’ll ever need to thank us for.”

“I know. That’s why I am.” He picked his drink back up and began nursing it with a sip. “So Emilie’s convinced herself that we’re losing Adrien to some combination of teenage angst and pique – never mind that he’s only eight years old – and she’s reacting as I once did, by trying to hold him tight so he doesn’t drift away.”

Tom winced. “Have they started running yet?”

“I don’t believe so, but it might just be a matter of time. I’m going to do my best so they won’t feel they have to, but… well, my best with the children does tend to be lacking.” He looks up and meets the other father’s gaze. “I’m going to encourage them to spend more time here. It’s safe, at least as supervised as my own home, and out of sight enough that I should be able to calm Emilie down.”

“Of course. Adrien’s always welcome here.”

“Thank you.” They sit in silence a few moments more. “I should probably get to what I actually came here tonight to tell you.”

“Take as long as you need.”

“Somehow I doubt your wife would be any happier than mine if we spent all night drinking.”

“Take a reasonable amount of time.”

Gabriel snorted. “Naturally.” His smile waned. “Adrien apparently accessed his trust fund recently. We aren’t sure how. We do think we know why.” He met his host’s eyes again. “There was an argument a few weeks back. Emilie was particularly heated, and some things were said that… she invoked her authority as the household’s matriarch, rather than as Adrien’s mother. The children made a real estate purchase not ten days later.”

Tom sucked in a breath. “That’s…”

“Not as bad as it could be.” Gabriel took a larger swallow. “Given that they haven’t vanished yet, it’s possible they’re simply being prepared. Your daughter does tend to always have a plan ready. No, the real problem is that the purchase was made by Adrien’s trust fund, and so the land deed is now part of his trust. And that trust was specifically set up so that nobody but Adrien can touch it, which means that while we know there was a real estate purchase made, and roughly how expensive it was, we have no way of knowing how much land they purchased, where it is, or what’s on it.”

Tom nodded solemnly. “Which means if they feel they need to they can disappear again, and this time they won’t need to come back at all.”

“If it’s any consolation, I am quite sure they would at least visit the two of _you_.” Another swallow of alcohol. “Well, that’s my news anyway. Any happenings on your end?”

“Well, we did have a rather interesting visitor the other day…”

* * *

“Adrien.”

“Yes Dad?”

“You know that you are not to lie to myself and your mother.”

“Yes Dad.”

“You are also old enough to know the difference between _lying_ and simply _not telling someone something_ , yes?”

“Yes Dad.”

“Good. In that case, it may be for the best if, for the foreseeable future, you neglected to mention any of your adventures to your mother, understood?”

“Yes Dad.”

“And Adrien.”

“Yes Dad?”

“For the love of all that is holy, _don’t tell her about Marinette’s baby._ ” A pause. “Actually, it might be best if you just didn’t mention the baby to anyone.”

“Yes Dad.”

* * *

“I know. I know it’s stupid, I just… you guys are the only ones who see me, and every time someone doesn’t know I’m there it hurts, and I know you guys are never gonna forget me and I’ll always be part of this, but… I worry. I’m afraid, and I can’t help it.”

It’s really a foregone conclusion after that.

It might have been since Rose.

Initially she wants it around her left eye, so that everyone who sees her will at least know what she’s a part of. That gets shot down because she still has to deal with Rose’s parents and her hair might not cover her face well enough for that. Also, Marinette isn’t entirely confident in her ability to not leave Juleka half blind if she tries.

Instead they settle on putting it around the cleft in her collarbone. She’ll have to be careful about low collars, but she tends to wear covering clothing anyway.

“So, same warehouse as last time?”

“Oh no, we’ve got something much better in mind.”

* * *

It’s a block of old warehouses. There’s an apartment building in the mix as well, and something about that strikes Luka as odd, but he’s not sure what. The main entrances have all been bricked over, but there’s a small alleyway, opposite the apartment building, with the two warehouses on either side meeting over it at the second floor level. The metal gate at the alley entrance is the only part of this that looks new.

The alley leads to a tiny enclosure that Luka wouldn’t really call a courtyard, but he doesn’t know another word for it. There’s a door on either side, and another one straight ahead that probably used to be a service entrance for the apartments.

Marinette, Adrien, and Chloe lead the group through the door on the right, and Luka finds himself stopping short once he’s inside.

“It wasn’t ready yet when we did Rose’s or we’d’ve come here.”

Luka can see why. The walls between the warehouses have been knocked out. The open space created is full of the big metal containers you see on cargo ships, piled in a way that looks almost haphazard until you realize they’ve all been welded into place, and Marinette did this, so they probably would’ve been stable anyway. They reach all the way to the ceiling in more than one place, which looks really cool considering the ceiling isn’t always the same height, and even if you never went inside them the entire thing is a three-dimensional maze of metal canyons and walkways.

There’s scaffolding and catwalks and ladders scattered everywhere as well, and Luka really has no idea when they had time to do all this. (He also isn’t sure how they got all this in here, but something about that thought makes his head hurt so he drops it.)

“Everyone can pick whichever room they want and set it up however they want too. Just let us know so we can put your names on the doors.”

Luka’s grown up on a boat, and he’ll adamantly declare that it’s the coolest house ever. That said, this is definitely the world’s best _club_ house, and he rushes off to find the perfect spot just like everyone else.

It’s a few hours before anyone remembers why they came here to begin with, but by the time they all go to bed, Juleka’s smile is supported by the warmth she imagines spreading from her new tattoo.

It feels like she’s always being hugged now, and she knows that even if she gets in trouble for this, she’ll never regret it.

* * *

“Right then, drastic times…” Gabriel stood. “Nathalie, how much of the company would I be able to manage remotely?”

* * *

Louise was rather nervous. The trio had bumped into her, grown rather excited, and then been very cryptic as they insisted she had to come to the bakery with them.

This was on top of a pair of worrisome echoes that were sitting on the edges of their magic. Not that the echoes themselves were a problem, but they quite obviously didn’t come from the kids, and she had no idea whose magic would have left an imprint like that or how.

“Hello dear.”

Louise jolted out of her thoughts and off the couch. She spun to face her addresser, a woman she recognized as Marinette’s mother. “Mme. Cheng, I’m sorry to intrude, the kids…”

“Ah, dragged you off in a whirlwind of excitement did they? I think I remember seeing you at Chloe’s party, but I don’t believe we had the chance to talk.”

“Yes, I’ve known them for a while now, but… I didn’t really know anyone else there. I confess I spent most of my time hiding by the punch bowl.”

“Ah, you must be one of the ones they know from their more… exciting adventures. Thank you for taking care of them.”

“I’m happy to. They’re good kids.”

“Yes, they are. And you, my dear girl, simply must call me Sabine.”

“Ah – Sorry – I’m Louise.”

There’s a spark of recognition and… amusement? “Louise you say? Then I really must thank you several times over. I also have an idea of what the children brought you here for.”

Before the pinkette can respond to that, the door opens and Marinette comes through, her compatriots in tow, and a bundle of blankets in her arms.

* * *

They’re at a park a few hours past sunset. They’re in a fight with some older boys, though they really don’t know _why_ , just that they’re _really_ stupid and focused on Marinette and Chloe. The teenagers can’t coordinate, so they keep getting in each other’s way (or being made to), but they’re big, so the trio’s hits don’t hurt them much. Still, they’re easy enough to dodge, and it’s looking like they’ll just need to outlast them and move on.

There’s a roar and a blur.

With a battlecry that stills the field, a girl lands rollerblades first on the face of the lead thug. The girl isn’t synched up with the trio, and she takes more than one tumble, but she just. Keeps. Coming.

It’s honestly impressive, especially considering she’s _tiny_. Smaller than either Marinette or Rose, but shrieking fury and larger than life all the same.

It’s no wonder the boy who dropped into the edges of the fight shortly after she arrived goes unnoticed at first, the way she’s crowing like Anarka in a high storm. To say nothing of her movements, because it really shouldn’t be possible to land a back handspring while wearing rollerblades.

A few minutes later, the last of the bullies are groaning on the ground, and Hell on Wheels is grinning at them fit to burst. “That was awesome! Seriously, best fight I’ve had in a while! Nice to meetcha, I’m Alix, this is my brother Jalil.”

“Marinette.”

“Adrien.”

“Chloe.”

“Dammit, she’s made contact with more of her kind.”

“Don’t mind him; he’s convinced I’m an alien.”

* * *

All the kwami paused as Fluff began chuckling darkly. “It’s time! It’s finally happening!”

While most of his comrades quailed, Xuppu simply shook his head and gestured to the fox. “Silly rabbit, Trixx is the kid.”

The time kwami upgraded to outright maniacal laughter.

* * *

“Pack your things Emilie, we’re leaving.”

“Wait, what? Gabriel?”

“I’m having a fit of artistic pique and dragging you along with me. Nathalie will remain here to handle the day-to-day of things, while we go abroad so I can gather inspiration.”

“What about Adrien?”

“He will remain so his education will not suffer. His tutoring will continue as scheduled, and we’ve made sure that it lines up with his friends’ schooling as well, so there should be no issue.”

“But – we need to – we can’t just – Gabriel!”

“You, meanwhile, will be putting up with my bouts of artistry and general flightiness, and generally relaxing and letting go of the stress you’ve built up around here lately.”

“And who will be responsible for our son while we’re off gallivanting around the world?”

Gabriel stilled. “Mlle. Dupain-Cheng for one. Just as she has been for years before this. And just as she will remain to be once we’ve returned and you’ve had a chance to come to terms with things in a way that _doesn’t_ alienate our only child.”

She flinched at that. “I… really have no way of winning this, do I?”

“Emilie, believe me, this _is_ us winning.”

A sigh. “Where were you thinking of going?”

“I’ve heard that Tibet can be quite lovely.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brace Yourselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't specifically mean for this horror show to happen in chapter thirteen, but I can't say it doesn't fit.
> 
> This is as dark as this installment's gonna get.  
> I'm realizing I'm not actually very good at writing horror.  
> I'm sorry and I'm not even sure which of those I'm apologizing for.
> 
> There's nothing particularly graphic, and I don't usually do this, but this chapter is out of tone for the rest of the story, so...  
> Trigger Warnings in the End Notes.

**Paris, France, 1725, Late Summer**

_She was on her way home. It had been a rather ordinary day all told._

_She worked for a baker and his wife, sweeping and cleaning and such while the baker baked and the wife sold bread. They had a son who was slightly older than her, and she thought they might have been laying preparations to have the boy court her in a few years, and while she certainly wouldn’t say no (not to a charming and kind young man who was not necessarily well-off, but certainly stable) she did find herself hoping that they might put forth an effort, for she knew herself, and she did have her little pride, and she was quite sure she’d embarrass herself at least a little if they approached her about the matter as if it were a thing already done._

_Still. Her father was a tanner who loved his cups a bit too much. Being a baker’s wife, and that to a boy she actually knew, was easily the best of her prospects. She would have to have Mother send Elisabeth to visit often, and Father was never quite so hard on the boys, so they’d be alright._

_But that was a few years out yet, and for now she was winding her way home with her wages – a sou and a handful of denier in a purse under her skirts and a loaf in a small cloth bag on her back. The sun had dipped behind the buildings, leaving the streets twilit and shadowed._

_Her first inkling that something was wrong was when she was grabbed from behind._

* * *

It hadn’t originally occurred to Adrien that he was missing anything not going to school. His parents had mentioned that they were paying a lot of money for the best tutors they could get after all, and Chloe and Marinette complained regularly and loudly about how boring it was.

And then the Veronique debacle happened.

And while he was overjoyed to make a new friend – seriously, Rose was awesome – he couldn’t help but feel almost disloyal, it hurt that all of this had happened and he hadn’t even known his friends needed help. And he might have said something (maybe even asked to go to school), but then he’d met another new friend.

Luka.

Luka didn’t go to school either. Apparently there was a bad man out there who wanted Luka, and the Couffaines were hiding from him. Part of why they lived on a boat was because it was harder to find than a house, especially when it moved every few months. Public schools were, by nature, centered in public locales, and it wasn’t safe for Luka to be in public much, so he was home-schooled.

Adrien’s dad had said something about being homeschooled for safety reasons way back when, and he tended to overreact a lot when it came to safety, but if _Anarka_ thought something was potentially unsafe…

There were probably reasons he wasn’t going to school with the others and his parents just hadn’t told him yet. That was alright, as long as he got to see his friends when they weren’t all learning, Adrien was happy.

* * *

Adrien wasn’t happy.

Actually, none of them were happy.

Apparently the guy hunting Luka was getting smarter, and using the same music supply shop was a bad idea. He’d shown up as they were finishing with getting some replacement guitar strings and new sheet music. None of them had ever seen him before, so they wouldn’t even have known he was dangerous if he hadn’t zeroed in on Luka right away and started talking about how Luka was his and needed to come with him.

They ran away.

He chased them.

They Ran Away.

They’d holed up in the clubhouse now, and Juleka was holding her big brother as he cried. Eventually he stopped shaking and started breathing right again, and they all relaxed. Rose collapsed into the siblings with a hug of her own.

They gather sleeping bags and blankets again; they’ll be sleeping in a pile tonight.

“I’m not his. I’m not. I don’t know why he scares me; I don’t even know who he _is_ , but… no. Not someone like that. I’m not his. I’ll never be his.”

Chloe scoffs, the fury behind her eyes the only visible sign she’s upset. “Of course not.”

Marinette nods, serious as they fact that they’re Running Away implies, the air around her _humming_. “You’re _ours_.”

Adrien holds himself still in that dangerous way he’s learned to, and this is the first time he’s realized what his friends are talking about when they mention that, but he can’t think about that because they’re helping _Luka_ right now, so he bleeds some tension with a breath that comes out as a snarl. “And he can’t have you.”

They do it that night.

The next morning, they go to the boat together, making sure Luka’s always in the middle. They tell Anarka what happened, and she agrees that the man is dangerous. She says that she’ll tell the police he showed up, because he’s not supposed to, but that they should still be careful.

They vanish for a week after that, notes showing up for most of their parents. They return shortly before the Agrestes do.

Luka starts hearing people’s Songs more clearly after that.

It takes him awhile to notice though, because the emblem over his heart resonates with a Symphony all its own.

* * *

_She was, not for the first time, cursing her father’s tendency to confiscate and hide her knives – he felt it was inappropriate for a girl of thirteen years to carry such things, and it varied from one beating to the next whether he thought wearing them concealed made it better or worse._

_The man had dragged her into an alley and pinned her to the wall. He stank of alcohol and seemed overly fond of his rather large dagger – personally she thought using a small sword to threaten a small slip of a girl like her was a bit much, but then he seemed the dramatic type._

_Also, he’d made not a single mention yet of **money** , which left a rather narrow field of things he could want, so at second pass, he might need it._

_“Oh now, no need to be like that, I’m not so scary! I just wanna have a little fun! Look of you, you’ll probably enjoy it too.”_

_Yes, that left very little about his intentions to doubt._

_She submitted to her parents and employers, and to cross and crown, the way all good girls should._

_This man had no part of any of those._

_She fought._

* * *

“…they returned from that the day before yesterday. Aside from those matters, the only point of interest is that at least one month ago, but no more than three, future Marinette apparently came back and picked up Baby Angelina.”

Gabriel has been nodding along at Nathalie’s explanation and finds himself giving a small sigh of relief at that last part. Nothing against the child, but if it’s not present anymore then Emilie is less likely to find out about it and relapse.

Her new friend is helping some, but Gabriel knows the old tales, and he’s not quite ready to trust yet. That’s part of why he’s decided not to introduce the children to his and Emilie’s new associates.

That said, Emilie is calmer now, and the very perspective that makes Gabriel wary seems to have had some part in that at least, so he will wait and watch, and let time tell.

“Where are they now?”

“Here actually. Adrien and the Girls are in his room – they apparently feel it’s been too long since they’ve been able to dance properly, and Adrien’s machine just had some new songs installed.”

“In that case I would like to take a moment to stop in and say hello before we get to work.”

“Of course sir.”

* * *

_She stumbled out of the alleyway back onto the street; half tripping as she tried to run faster than her legs could carry her. Her dress was torn, a deep gash in her arm and she was sure from the pain in her back that the brickwork had damaged it as well._

_He pursued her as she fled, the large blade from before had been dropped, and subsequently abandoned in favor of a smaller (though still large) knife._

_He reached for her just as she twisted to the side, and his failed grab carried him a few precious steps away, bought her a few more seconds as she screamed her lungs out for rescue._

_And then, cacophony._

_The ground broke, the street fell, and the earth swallowed them._

* * *

Roger Raincomprix has been to the Dupain-Cheng home before. He’s been there even later than this in fact, but he still can’t help but feel like he’s intruding here.

Maybe it has to do with the fact he’s never actually been in their apartment when the children are present?

“Saw your name in the news,” Tom is obviously trying to alleviate tension. It’s good to know he’s not the only one feeling awkward. “Congratulations?”

Roger smiles. It’s half-hearted at best. “That’s uh… that’s kind of why I’m here actually.” They’re referring to a recent bust that’s made headlines. Organized crime. Roger had only been brought in near the end, when they’d pulled as many officers as they could for a Hail Mary, but he’d taken a bullet to the arm in a small skirmish, and been the one to actually cuff two of the most important players.

“Oh?”

“We got most of the main group in the raids, but there are still several known members unaccounted for, and we know they’ve got at least two holes we couldn’t find.”

“Which means they’re still out there.”

He nods at Sabine. Quick that one. “Yes. And they’ll likely be coming for the officers whose names were mentioned. We’ll all be going into hiding for a few weeks until the trials, but…” And it _hurts_ to realize he trusts this family more than his own brothers-in-arms. “There are a few things that suggest they might have a mole, most likely in IA.”

Tom’s eyes widen. “So Witness Protection…”

“Is likely compromised, yes. Which isn’t a problem for me, I’ll be armed at all times and I signed on for all of these risks. I’m not even injured all that badly.” A lie. “The bullet went straight through, so no complications.” That much is true at least. “The pain meds they’ve got me on help.” They also would’ve compromised his aim if he’d been ambushed, so he’d stopped taking them. “Thing is, I’m not the only one they’ll be coming for.” All eyes turn to Sabrina.

They obviously already know what he’s going to ask. He can see it in the way they glance at their own daughter and her friends. “Are there any other…”

He’s already shaking his head. “All the other officers I’d trust with her safety are on the same hit list.”

Tom and Sabine exchange a slow nod. “We’d be happy to take her in then.”

Roger winces; this’ll be the _real_ big one. “Actually, I was hoping to ask the kids?”

They’re all obviously confused, so her turns to the three most beloved troublemakers in Paris. “When you three vanish, well and truly vanish, there’s nobody in the city who can track you down. I know it’s a lot to ask, by all rights I shouldn’t _be_ asking, but… Sabrina’s my whole world. I can’t…” Finish the thought, among other things.

There’s obviously communication, but he can’t read it. Marinette’s the one to meet his gaze. “You’re sure; you want us to Run Away with her?”

“Please.”

Adrien locks eyes next. “Once she’s one of us, its forever.”

“Thank you.”

It’s Chloe’s turn. “You’re ready for what comes after?”

No. “Do it anyway.”

* * *

They got caught.

More specifically, they never got away. Not cleanly at least.

There was a tail waiting for them as soon as they left the bakery. They tried to shake them, but that just tipped the bad guys off, and now there’s a bunch of them, and they’re still only a few blocks from home, and they’re trying to vanish, but no matter how hard their trail can be to pick up, these guys _already have it_ and they’re professional bad guys, not the amateurs they’re used to, and now there’s shooting, and –

Fortune lashes out. Misfortune rages. Will storms. They’re skating a razor’s edge and managing by the skin of their teeth, but eventually something has to give.

As it turns out, that something is the ground.

* * *

_She had heard rumors of this; that sometimes the ground would give way, and suddenly nature would crack a new entrance into the winding maze of mining tunnels under the city. Some folk whispered that it was only a matter of time before the earth was swallowing whole streets and eventually all of Paris. She’d never given much credence to the thought, and honestly she still didn’t. The hole that had swallowed her and her attacker had been perhaps three fathoms across at most._

_She’d had to abandon the hole though, and with it, any help from the surface. **He’d** been there, madness and something wet tingeing his voice as he blamed their bad luck on her. He’d already been dangerous when the only madness he’d shown was that of drink. She’d fled._

_And now she was lost._

* * *

“Are you alright?”

Marinette opened her eyes to an older girl who looks like she’s just finished _swimming_ through a river of blood. “You’re hurt.”

This seems to confuse the older girl for a moment before she smiles sadly. “I’m alright, please don’t worry. What about you?”

“I’m fine; the fall wasn’t… where are my friends?”

The older girl gestures. Marinette takes in her surroundings for the first time. They’re in a tunnel, and the girl’s motioning to a cave-in. “This used to be a junction, but it collapsed a while ago. Your friends are probably down one of the other routes.”

That kick-starts a memory. “Right, we hit the pile of dirt… Adrien fell away from me… Chloe went that way… And Sabrina’s over there!”

Blood girl paled. “One of your friends fell that way?” She points.

“Uh-Huh.”

“We need to hurry. Hopefully we’re not too late.”

* * *

Chloe comes to with her hair splayed out around her and dirt in her everything. Blinking manages to get it out of her eyes at least, but not out of her light.

She starts taking stock but doesn’t get past “nothing hurts” before she hears a cry for help.

She’s running before she can think about it.

* * *

Adrien groans and rolls over.

He then jolts upright, because there’s _water_ there, and now he’s wet.

And then he feels a tug of some kind. A gentle pull, like there’s somewhere he needs to be and something he needs to do.

He shrugs. It’s not like he has any better ideas. Maybe the others will feel it too.

He starts walking.

* * *

“I used to have all kinds of fun. But I can’t do half of it no more, not like this, it just don’t work. Don’t worry though, there’s still more fun to be had, just gotta make it last.”

Sabrina stares in horror. She’s the daughter of a cop, she knows the sorts of monsters that are out there. But this… this is all her dad’s worst stories rolled into one with nightmares piled on top.

The cavern is lit in unsettling ways, the shadows are doing unnatural things, and as the grand centerpiece she’s trapped by something that shouldn’t _exist_ outside of spooky stories. And then she feels a warm trickle down her legs and it’s too much and she just cries.

“Ah. So sweet. I’d forgotten how much fun this part can be. Yes. Cry for me. Scream for help and mercy.”

* * *

_It had been a few days._

_Miraculously, she’d managed to find a small trickle of water, and she’d known from the start to make her one loaf last, but… it was over. She was lost and alone in the dark, and her food had run out several hours ago if her stomach was to be believed._

_She was preparing herself for one last push to see if she might by chance stumble across a way out when it happened._

_It started with laughter, dark and twisted, and sounding burnt and wet all at once._

_Then there was light, and it should have hurt her eyes after days spent underground, but it didn’t, and somehow now that the cavern she was in was illuminated, it was even more terrifying than before._

_Though that may have had something to do with the source of the laughter standing revealed, some feet away. Shadows clung to his frame in unnatural ways, dark wet stains marred his clothes and skin, and the hint of madness that had nibbled at the edges when last she’d seen this man had obviously taken his mind wholesale._

_His knife was entirely too bright._

_“This is all your fault. Took away my fun, got us dropped down a hole, **killed** me, and for what? I wasn’t hurtin’ nothin’, shoulda just kept quiet and let me play witcha.”_

_And only now did she realize what had happened. She stood on shaky legs, weak from hunger and fear, knowing what was about to happen. She found herself offering up a silent prayer – to God, Mary, the Saints, anyone who would listen – that someone, anyone, could come and save her._

_“And now look at me, can’t even have half my fun no more. So now I’ve gotta get what I can outta the other half. And you owe me, this is your fault, so let’s have fun.”_

_Angelina died screaming._

* * *

They don’t know why they pick up the pace, they just _do_.

* * *

“Scream for me brat. Scream!”

And Sabrina obeys, calling out for the only people she can think of that might hear her.

“Adrien! Chloe! Marinette! Help!”

The dark mockery of laughter echoes ever louder. “Nobody’s coming bitch!” The knife flashes as it descends and Sabrina shrinks back and squeezes her eyes shut.

There’s a sound, and it’s horrible, and it hurts her ears, and she doesn’t know how to describe it. But it’s followed up by one of the most beautiful things she’s ever heard.

“You sure about that?”

And she opens her eyes.

Adrien is there, and he’s picked up a bone somewhere and he’s using it as a sword.

And there’s a cry, and Chloe is hitting the monster from behind.

Marinette announces her presence by bouncing a fist sized rock off the nightmare’s skull.

But…

Three children. And it is three, because Sabrina still can’t make herself move. Can’t even stand.

And he’s a grown man. And he’s got a knife.

* * *

In any other timeline, the conclusion would be foregone.

This _isn’t_ any other timeline.

* * *

Rose twitched, blinked, tried to soothe herself, tried to calm down.

It didn’t work.

So she sat down on her bed. Laid back.

Opened the floodgates.

 _Felt_.

Because if something in her had decided she needed to be angry, then she was going to sit here and be angrier than _anyone in history._

* * *

Juleka didn’t know why she felt the need to climb the tallest thing she could find, she just did.

So she climbed the first thing she saw that she knew she wasn’t supposed to. Didn’t even really pay it any attention beyond the fact that it obviously wasn’t supposed to be climbed.

And then she just sat there, on top of it and in plain view of literally everyone who passed by, and nobody gave her a first glance, let alone a second one.

Going unnoticed like that had started hurting less when she got her tattoo, but this was the first time it hadn’t hurt at all.

Juleka had no idea what was going on.

* * *

Luka was pacing and fidgeting and anxious and he had no idea why so he got fed up with himself and plopped down with his guitar.

He didn’t think, just played, and soon found himself a passenger in his own body as the music drove.

It was a war anthem. Hard rock and metal meets marching song and purpose. But there was more than that, and it took him a moment to realize that he was playing a counterpoint as well, that there was a second melody harmonizing with the first, a lullaby that spoke to the song of battle and tempered it, focused it to make it stronger and more refined.

And then Luka found an empty spot beside the music. He realized slowly that that empty spot was meant for him, and so he poured himself into it. And he and the song were working _together_ now, and it was like the time he’d seen Marinette, Adrien, and Chloe share a two pad machine. All of the “how”s just stopped mattering.

They _danced_.

* * *

The fight wore on.

They were losing.

Then they weren’t.

Their attacks became crisper, sharper, still powered by furious emotion, but running cold and focused instead of hot and untamed.

They landed more. It was like past a certain point he just couldn’t keep track of them. Couldn’t see them coming.

Their already impossible synchronicity stepped up even further, one heartbeat among the three of them as they found new depths to draw on and their wounds started hurting less.

They had a friend who had taught them about force multipliers, physics, and applied spatial mathematics.

They had a friend who had taught them about physical limits, how to find them, how to push them, and how to get around them.

They had a friend who had taught them about symmetry, and the human form, and that eye lines and curves and shadows were important in ways most never saw.

They had a friend who was completely normal, who wasn’t really special at all, but who was loyal to a fault and kept up out of sheer refusal to be left behind.

They had a friend who had taught them how to get back up, and get back up, and get back up, and get back up, and take everything that came at them and never stay down.

They have friends who are crazy, and friends who are magic, and friends who break logic, and friends who are just friendly people they know, and friends that are out there waiting and they just haven’t met them yet, and they take all of it, everything they are, and they pour it all out into this.

And they _fight_.

* * *

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. He was attempting to introduce Nathalie to their new guests so that she could help keep an eye on them, but they were both apparently rather distracted. That was admittedly rather normal for the blue one, but the purple one was typically more focused.

“Is something the matter?”

Nooroo blinked at him, then furrowed what passed for his brow. “I’m not sure.”

* * *

Louise paused in the middle of reciting the spell component functions her mother had had her memorize this weekend. More than that, it seemed she’d stopped breathing as she dazedly turned and stared into the middle distance.

“No.” That breath seemed to restart the cycle at least, though she fell to her knees anyway, tears unshed glistening at the edges of her eyes. “Please, please no.”

* * *

Wang Fu sighed as the discussion he was attempting to have with his charges stalled again. “Am I boring you?”

Wayzz had the grace to look sheepish. Which was impressive considering Ziggy didn’t. “Forgive us Master, something is happening that is pulling at our attention and it’s really quite distracting.”

Considering even Fluff had gone still… “And Plagg and Tikki?”

The Black Cat glared at him from where he was drifting slowly sideways. “We’re getting pulled _harder_.”

* * *

It was, as it would always be, luck that broke the stalemate.

Adrien stumbled, took a single step back.

Chloe moved, low to the ground, coming in from the side, sharpened the curve of her run so she was on approach.

Marinette, watching the angles, looking for an opening, held still for a single breath.

An equilateral triangle. A circle defined by three points.

Power _blazed_.

* * *

Red and Green swirled and swirled and swirled, tighter and tighter and tighter, and then a hole opened and they held the edges.

First Pink, and then a different, Harsher shade of Green emerged from where they were hiding in Red and Green respectively. They reached through and found the Thing, a tangled, snarled, Corrupted ball of malice and rage and soul and hunger. Pink latched onto a part of it that only it could find, and Harsh Green followed, riding Pink to the Origin and then striking, the first blow cracked it and they worked together after that, unravelling the Thing and shredding the pieces until nothing was left but ash and dust, and tearing and clawing and burning and threshing.

And then Yellow stepped up, and blew through the ash and dust until it found another hole. A hole that had been part of the Thing, the Invitation that had let the Corruption bleed through to begin with, and that had Fed the Thing and let it Feed the place it came from.

And Yellow motions and Pink and Harsh Green follow, and the ash and dust is a cloud that they now gather and Yellow Pushes and Pink and Harsh Green and Red and Green help, and the remains of the Thing, unraveled, unmade, destroyed and never-was are sent through the dark threshold and cast out beyond the final boundary and once it is done they collapse the path to the Outer Dark in a way that they know will damage it at least a little, and maybe they’re a little vindictive, but the Thing hurt one of Theirs.

And then it’s done. And Pink goes back to hiding inside Red, and Harsh Green hides inside Green again, and Yellow relinquishes its hold on things, and the hole that Red and Green opened closes, and the power retreats again to rest.

* * *

The unburning flames die down, and there are the three kids, each standing at the center of a spiral. There’s a pattern, burned into the ground and lined with faintly glowing colored glass.

Triquetra and triskelion.

Green, Red, Yellow.

The nightmare that has haunted these catacombs since before they were catacombs is _gone_. Nothing left, no sign he was ever here except the declaration of victory over him that they’ve carved into the world.

She’s gaping, she knows it. And it’s rude to stare, but Angelina really can’t help it. Her only saving grace is that she’s not alone in her awe, because the other girl, the one they came to save – Marinette called her Sabrina – she’s staring at her friends at _least_ as much as Angelina is.

What was that phrase? She looks like she’s found religion?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings.
> 
> Attempted Rape.  
> Torture.  
> Murder.  
> Attempted Torture.  
> Attempted Murder.  
> Supernatural Horror.  
> The Shitshow That is the 18th Century and Everything That Comes With That


	14. Chapter 14

Hidden away in the catacombs deep under Paris, great power awakened, laid waste to a centuries-old darkness, and then returned to its rest.

Far away, a boy asked his tiger, “D’you ever get the feeling we’ve just missed out on a really exciting adventure?”

He received a flat look for his troubles. “Frankly, I think we have entirely too much excitement of our own.”

“Yeah, I guess our own adventures are the best because _we’re_ the ones having them. Didja see where the wagon went?”

“That’s not what I… *sigh*… c’mon, I think it went this way…”

* * *

There was a moment of silence after the monster’s destruction before Adrien turned and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sorry it took us so long to get here.”

Chloe chuffed out a laugh as she sat down. “Sabrina? You alright?”

“I’m fine, just, um… just embarrassed, please don’t worry about me.”

Marinette gasped. “But _you’re_ not. You’re hurt!”

Her guide smiled fondly. “Don’t worry, I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding _a lot_.”

“I’m fine.”

“ _Nobody_ who’s bleeding _that much_ is ‘fine.’”

“I’m a ghost.”

“Last I checked dead wasn’t fine.” Marinette gave Chloe a Look.

“She’s kinda got a point though,” Adrien spoke up, “You being a ghost doesn’t really explain the blood.”

“My death… wasn’t clean. Or quick.”

Marinette’s face scrunched up. “But what does that have to do with you being all hurt and bloody?”

“Ghosts reflect their condition when they died.”

“Why?”

* * *

Doctor Janette Van Helsing blinked at what she saw. She had given Marinette her home number because she knew runaways tended to avoid hospitals, but she still wanted the girl to be able to get help if she needed it. It was, by and large, the same thing she did for most of the street kids she met. When the girl had called, Janette had jumped on the request for help, especially when Marinette mentioned they were only a few minutes out, never even blinking at the request to come in through her back door, it wasn’t the first time a kid had been twitchy about the front.

So here she was, on her balcony, and that was a ghost. And if ghosts were real, then that meant souls were real, and she should really consider going back to church, and she owed Grandpa Van Helsing _such_ an apology. Still. Reconciliation and existential crises later, for now she has a patient.

“Right, inside you lot, that last time I did a surgery on my balcony, the neighbors complained.”

* * *

“Excuse me, M. Policeman?”

Tim blinked, then leaned forward to look over the front edge of the reception desk. “Oh, hello Mlle. Dupain-Cheng.”

“You know who I am?”

“Mademoiselle, every police officer in Paris knows who you are.”

“Oh.”

When the silence got awkward, Tim prompted, “Anyway, how can I help you today Mlle. Dupain-Cheng?”

“I uh… hold on, how did it go… oh yeah! ‘I would like to report a murder.’ We’re supposed to do say that to let you know we need to tell you someone died, right?”

There are good moments to take a drink. That wasn’t one. Somewhere amid the panic, the coffee, and the coughing, Tim managed to get out, “Victim! Do you *cough cough* know who *wheeze* the victim was?”

“Ah, that would be me.”

Tim looked at the young teen standing next to the living legend, and for the first time noticed that the girl in the old-timey threadbare dress was floating slightly. He turned back to Marinette. “You really don’t do things by halves, do you?”

* * *

“Whoah, this is so cool!”

“Anybody know what’s going on?”

“Did the clubhouse always have a basement?”

“Everybody!” the group quieted and turned their attention to Adrien. “Thanks guys. So, uh… last week, Chloe, Marinette, and I, and our new friend Sabrina,” She waved at the group shyly. “We wound up in the cat-combs, and a mean ghost tried to hurt Sabrina, but we met a nice ghost who helped us save her! So, uh, say hi to Angelina everyone.” He paused for the chorus of greetings.

“Alright, so that’s that done. Now, the reason we’re down here is cause Angelina never got a funeral, ‘cause nobody ever found her body, and we couldn’t find it either, but we can still do this for her.” And with that, he turned and pointed at Chloe.

The girl smiled and – with a flourish, naturally – pulled the covering cloth off of the object next to her, revealing…

A waist high stone. Rounded at the top, with the familiar triquetra and triskelion carved into it, and beneath that:

**ANGELINA**

**Our Friend**

* * *

“Daddy.” Chloe slipped into her father’s office between visitors and slapped a flyer down on his desk. “I want this. You’ll pay for it, right?”

“Of course dear.” He didn’t even glance at it. “Now go show it to Amanda so she can cut the check while I meet with my next appointment.”

“Thank you Daddy!” Chloe danced out as a businessman made his way in and handed the flier to Nancy (Amanda had quit last month) with a smirk.

“Savate lessons?”

“He said yes.”

“…This is going to keep you safer, yes? You’re not going to use it as an excuse to get into more dangerous trouble?”

“We already get into everything we can anyway. But yes, this is going to help us be safer with what we already get up to.”

“…Alright then.” Nancy started pulling the necessary paperwork. “And Chloe? It’s good that you’re thinking ahead like this.”

In another life, the fact that the staff cared more than her parents would have hurt. Chloe mused on this fact before dismissing it with a soft smile. It didn’t matter. She was living _this_ life, and Mama Sabine and Papa Tom were her real parents anyway. Audrey and Andre just had custody.

For now.

* * *

“Mama?”

“Yes Marinette?”

“You still know Whooshwhoosh and Tiesheets, right?”

“Wushu and Tai Chi Marinette. And yes, I still know them. I practice regularly. Why do you ask?”

“Teach me?”

Sabine looked up from what she was doing – Adrien and Chloe needed to know they were being paid attention to when you were speaking with them, but Marinette usually dealt better with the trust and lack of pressure when you didn’t look at her directly. Usually.

Sabine gave her daughter a considering look. The children hadn’t talked much about what happened in the catacombs. They hadn’t mentioned it at all until they’d needed help getting a headstone for the ghost they’d brought back with them, and Sabine knew the stories, so she’d have been more reluctant to trust, except… well… Angelina.

But they had said something she hadn’t followed about a bad ghost. And now she was wondering if she shouldn’t have paid more attention to that part.

Because Marinette had that look she wore when she was laying out a scheme, and planning for everything she could think might go wrong. And she also had the look she got when everyone’s parents wound up at the school again after yet another mess with Veronique.

“It will take a while. Months and years of practice before you’re really good.” It might not, her daughter learned fast, but expectations and all that.

“S’why I should start now.”

Sabine ignored the way her heart clenched at that. “I don’t have much time during the day. You’ll have to get up before we open when I usually practice.”

“Okay.”

* * *

“Father.”

Gabriel stilled. That was neither the tone his son usually used with him, nor the one that played prelude to a conversation about sensitive things that left the boy vulnerable. That was the Serious Tone, the one that he hoped to cultivate into a proper Business Voice for his son to turn on political and financial associates.

The designer turned to find his son holding a sword. By the middle of the blade, which almost made Gabriel raise an eyebrow. “Adrien.”

“Your trophies, they’re for fencing, right?”

The trophies in question had been moved recently to clear up some shelf space in his workroom. “Yes.” He had answered the question asked, it was on Adrien to ask for the information he desired – not an idea he would have applied were this an ordinary conversation or one between father and son, but Adrien had approached this in businesslike fashion, so this too was part of his education.

“Will you teach me?”

Hmm… That… “Why do you ask?”

“When we… a couple weeks ago, when we fought that mean ghost, we, we almost lost.” Oh. He had misstepped. This was apparently more sensitive than he’d first thought. “I almost lost. The girls almost got hurt because I wasn’t strong enough to protect them.”

“Adrien, I know you like to play the knight in shining armor, but I daresay your princesses are quite capable of looking after themselves.” Aaaaand that was a blush. Abort. Abort!

“They shouldn’t have to.” It was almost a whisper, but it was a safer direction than him finally noticing his girls were… well, girls.

“And what do you think they’d say to that?”

A grumble. “That I’m being stupid.”

“Yes, visions of shining armor tend to do that to young men.”

“So no shining armor then?”

“I’m quite certain we would all appreciate it if you didn’t.” He considered. “In fact, I’m going to make it one of the conditions for you learning how to use a sword.”

Adrien lit up. “Really? You’ll teach me?”

Ah. Gabriel hid a wince. “Ah, no. While I am quite proud of my own skill with the blade, experience has shown that I am… disinclined by nature… towards inspiring that skill in others.” He received a blank look and sighed. “I can’t teach, Adrien. What I can do, is arrange for you to have the best possible instruction in this, though I do have two conditions.

“The first I’ve already mentioned. The second is such…”

* * *

Louise had run into her kids again. The ghost they now had trailing after them almost had her going for her wand but she’d held off when they’d introduced her to Angelina. She had remained suspicious though, enough so that she’d actually managed to get the entire story of how they’d met.

Which brought her to the present, standing outside her mother’s room, considering risking her life, and realizing that there was really no choice at all. She knocked to announce her presence and strode in. “Mother.”

“Louise.”

“I need to learn how to fight.”

Karin looked up. “This is… sudden.”

“My kids were in trouble the other week.” That was what caused the collapse then. She set aside the fact that this was the first time Louise had called them her kids directly to tease her about some other time. “I just found out they were in the catacombs fighting a ghost.” Oh dear. “I know there was nothing I could have done this time, we were just too far away. But next time I might be closer, hell, I _have_ been closer before! And the next time I’m with them when we have to fight, it might not be a fangless dog with more bark than sense!”

“So you need to know how to fight.”

“So I need to know how to fight.”

“I see… I cannot teach you this. My own fighting relies too much on the active casting that still eludes you.” Interesting that Louise didn’t deflate, that she was undeterred. Her little one had finally grown a spine, good. “I can however put out feelers, see if any of those who travel in our circles has a style more suited to you and what it would take to get them to teach you.”

“Thank you Mother.”

“I haven’t found anything yet.”

“It is the effort I am grateful for.”

Something about that bothered Karin, but she wasn’t sure what.

* * *

“So you dudes went through all that and none of us would have known if you’d been hurt?” Nino shook his head. “No. You three.” He pointed at Anarka’s brood (And honorary member). “You knew something was up. Why? How?”

“I dunno, I just really needed to climb… no… I needed to be obvious, and right there, and have nobody see me.”

“And I just got really mad and needed to stay mad.”

“I just needed to play. Sorry Nino.”

“Grah! It doesn’t make any sense! What’s different about… you three…” He looked up in dawning wonder. “What’s different about you three?”

They stop by the Arcade. They hit a school carnival on the other side of town.

When they go home three days later, Nino’s left arm is permanently covered in bracelets and bands from wrist to elbow.

It’ll be years before anyone notices the tattoo hidden underneath.

* * *

It was a job interview unlike any other he’s ever had.

Practical trials aren’t uncommon – a few would-be employers have even used them as an attempt to get a free day or two – but this was decidedly different to any demonstrations he’d ever done before.

“You’re not going to do anything?” The newest in a long line of potential employers was raising an eyebrow.

“This area’s fenced in,” His own voice is soft, that’s caused issues before, but doesn’t seem to be a problem here. “There are three gates, all latched, and the children have made no move to leave.”

The man blinked before giving him a grin that should _really_ have a fin over it. “I see. Congratulations, you are the only applicant thus far to have passed this part of the demonstration.” Which… made sense. Most professional bodyguards would have tried to corral their charges without taking into account they were children, and assumed that since this was an interview they were supposed to treat this safe space as if it wasn’t.

He communicated this with one of his more eloquent grunts.

“Now then, please get them all into the fountain area in the center.”

He shrugged. Lumbered out. These kids were all the playful, energetic types, so if he made a show of trying to grab at them…

It worked; they began making a game of getting close and then darting out of his reach… a game that looked an awful lot like an effective strategy for wearing down and defeating a much larger opponent. He hoped this worked out; he was starting to like these kids already.

Fun as this was he did have a job to do, and… there. He had been consistently underselling his speed while getting a feel for the kids’ movements and patterns. They were naturally caught off guard when he suddenly became more agile, dodging the boy and stepping forward to grab the blonde girl. The one in pigtails narrowed her eyes and launched a jump kick, which he rebuffed with a thrust from his other palm.

By that point he had the captured girl slung over his shoulder and began making his way to a table and chair set by the fountain. Her friends continued attempting to liberate her, but she was definitely out of their normal reach, and while there were a few surprises about what they could use to extend that reach, neither of them were subtle about what they were about to try, so he was able to consistently dodge and deflect.

He made his way through the garden with a girl over his shoulder and her would-be rescuers kicking his ankles and punching his knees. When he reached the table he was aiming for, he dropped himself into one chair and his captive into another, leaving two open. There were a few half-hearted escape and rescue attempts, but shortly after that, the children took their seats grinning fit to burst.

“Yes, I do believe we have a winner.” His new employer-to-be said as he came up behind him. No surprise, he’d heard him coming. “Nathalie, be a dear and draw up a contract, would you?”

“Already done sir.” He knew from experience that there was no sign of his surprise, but he hadn’t heard _her_ approach. Which was… nice, actually. It would be good to work with someone who had actual skill.

Yes, he decided as he heard the children affectionately begin referring to him as “The Gorilla,” he was going to enjoy this job.

* * *

_In the Beginning, there was Red._

_And the Red had many friends, but it was lonely, for there were none like it._

_And then came the Green, and the Red knew the Green at once, for they were like unto one another, as through a mirror._

_And the Red and the Green were one._

_And it was good._

_In time, came the Yellow, and the Yellow was like unto the Green, but not as the Green was like unto the Red, and the Yellow was like unto the Red, but not as the Red was like unto the Green._

_And a dark queen sought power for herself, and had ensnared the Yellow by guile and power, and trapped her in a lie of dark artifice._

_But the Green met the Yellow, and knew that the Yellow was like unto itself, and like unto the Red, and the Green knew what must be done._

_And the Green summoned the Red._

_And the Red came._

_And the Green and the Red saved the Yellow, delivering her from the dark powers._

_And the dark powers stole the Yellow in their wrath, and attempted to carry it away to places far distant, where none would find it._

_But the Red and the Green pursued the dark queen, and again delivered the Yellow from her grasp._

_And the Red, and the Green, and the Yellow, returned themselves to their own lands from those far distant, and their travels are chronicled, but not here._

_And the Red, and the Green, and the Yellow, were one, and grew together as one, and became as one, and all were like unto one another, and each was a light of its own._

_And it was good._

_And the Red, and the Green, and the Yellow, looked through those they had deigned to live among, and_

“Sabrina! Dinner!”

“Coming Papa!” She smiled as she closed the book she was writing in and the one she had next to it. Her Auntie had given her that one and a few others when she’d talked to her about being Saved in the catacombs, and they were helpful, even though they were kinda weird and got a few things wrong.

She’d decided that wasn’t the fault of the writers though, they just hadn’t seen enough to understand right. But they’d been close enough to help _her_ understand, and so now she knew what she had to do.

So she was using their book to write one that got it _right_ , and she was quite thankful for their help, because she never would have been able to do this alone. Because she knew now that people who’d seen things like she had had a responsibility, and her father had taught her all about responsibility.

The books were put away in their place under the small (far smaller than it should be, but all she could do for now) altar in what used to be her closet – the Lesser Members of The Pantheon had been quite helpful in getting both information for the book and supplies for the alter – and offered a quick prayer of gratitude to her patrons for choosing _her_ for this holy mission. She again considered asking the Lesser Members for help before again dismissing the thought.

The holy ones obviously had other plans for them, or they would have received this calling. But it was hers, and while asking for specific help with small things was needed, she was their prophetess to this world, and she would do her own work as much as she could.

“Sabrina!”

“On my way!”

And slowly, almost regretfully, she closed the shrine doors. But as she went to eat with her father, a part of her remained, kneeling before the images of Marinette, Adrien, and Chloe.


	15. Chapter 15

A cacophonous cavalcade of children caromed clamorously through the cloistered corridors.

“Nathalie,” Gabriel asked in a tone that bespoke just how used to things he had become, “Where did they even _find_ poinsettias at this time of year?”

“Honestly sir? I’m more curious about the emu.”

“Hmm.”

* * *

_In some cultures, certain aspects of personal grooming (such as particular styles of hair or makeup) were used to show respect or devotion towards the gods…_

“Chloe?”

“Yes Sabrina?”

“How should I do my hair and makeup?”

“…However you want? I mean, if you want to do makeovers sometime we can get the girls together, but…”

Right. Of course. After the whole debacle with Mme. Bourgeois, Chloe _would_ focus on freedom like that, wouldn’t she?

* * *

“Where did you get this stuff again?”

“Our American friends sent it over. Said it was supposed to go in swimming pools.”

“Why so many little packets then instead of one big one?”

“I think it’s because not all pools are the same size… either that or American swimming pools are _way_ smaller than French ones.”

“Makes sense.” Luka jumped off the diving board. He hit the rainbow at the bottom, then came back up. After his bouncing settled, he moved off to one side to wait for Adrien.

As the other boy cleared the way for Rose, Luka began his questions again, “What did you say this stuff was called?”

“Jell-O”

* * *

“So Marinette how was school today?”

“Kinda weird. This morning we had a lesson on stories like “The Boy Who Cried Wolf” And how they usually have some kind of lesson in them.”

“Oh? What were you confused about?”

“Well we had a fire drill after lunch…”

* * *

_Many religions use particular articles or styles of clothing to indicate devotion. This can extend to the wearing or avoidance of certain colors or fabrics, and even a focus on special pieces of jewelry…_

“Marinette?”

“Yes Sabrina?”

“I was wondering… You do a lot of clothes and stuff, and… is there anything, uh, _special_ you think I should wear?”

Marinette shrugged. “I mostly do stuff with clothes because it makes me happy. I think you should wear whatever you like to wear.” She frowned. “You’re not having trouble with people who think you should dress differently, are you? Because I can-”

“No, nothing like that.” While it was comforting that her Goddess would intervene so readily, it was almost definitely best to only invoke such when there was an actual problem. “I was just curious is all.”

“Okay… I just want to be clear though, we’re never gonna be the kind of stupid-heads that make you wear fancy clothes and stuff to be around us.”

“… Thank you, that’s… that’s good to know.” Well, so much for that route of devotion.

Marinette suddenly straightened. “Sabrina, do you want _me_ to make you something?”

A chance to wear something made by divine hands? “Yes! Yes! A thousand times… um…” A cough. “Yes please.”

* * *

“What’s a ‘Play Test?’”

“Basically we were wondering if the three of you would be willing to play a game we haven’t released yet and let us know what you think.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Excellent. So, the way that Mecha Air Strike Trinity is designed to work, is that each of the three players has one set of things they always control, but there are two more systems that get passed around between the players…”

* * *

“Wait, you’ve only got one set of clothes?”

“Yes?” Angelina shrugged. “I know that they’re more common now, but when I was alive that’s pretty much all you had. If you were lucky you might have something special for church and weddings.”

Chloe took a fortifying breath. “Right. Adrien, you and the boys need to go get a wardrobe installed in Angelina’s room.”

“What about you girls?”

Marinette gave a predatory smile. “We’re going _shopping_.”

* * *

 _It was quite common amongst these ones for a devotee of the opposite sex to the god or goddess of their choice to offer their body up to their patron. Often, rituals involving this would have devotees of the **same**_ _sex as the patron involved directly as a proxy…_

That was an odd one.

Sabrina could understand the proxy thing (Once she’d looked it up in the dictionary); it wasn’t like they could be everywhere at once, so having someone represent you made sense. It was a lot like the job she’d been given, just moreso. In fact, she now dearly hoped that someday Chloe or Marinette would grant her the honor of being their proxy.

But the body bit was weird. According to this she should offer Adrien her body, but she had no idea what he would even want it for when he already had his own, and it wasn’t like they wanted her to do that whole sacrifice thing (she’d considered it before but decided that if they wanted her to die then they wouldn’t have saved her to begin with) so what could it mean…

Oh!

Ooooooooooooohhhhh.

Yeah, that made sense. Alright, she’d have to find a good time to do that.

* * *

“Alix,” Marinette smiled gently at the girl they’d finally rescued from an old trunk, “You know it’s okay to be afraid. It doesn’t make you any less awesome.”

“I… but I… Really?” And it _hurt_ , seeing this strong, determined girl so vulnerable.

“Of course. You’re our friend, and nothing could ever make us think less of you.”

“You mean it?”

“Absolutely.”

Alix got her tattoo on her right ankle.

Kim took this as a challenge and got his on the back of his left shoulder.

* * *

“Marinette? What’s wrong?” Sabine knew full well by this point that her daughter pouting was never a good thing.

“TV lied to me.”

Oh dear. Well, time to find out what the damage was. “Ah. And what did it lie about?”

“We spent all day in the sewers and didn’t find a single crocodile.”

…Well thank goodness for small miracles. “Don’t worry dear; I’m sure you’ll meet a very nice crocodile someday.”

“Really?”

Sigh. “Yes.” Unfortunately.

It wasn’t like anyone would have been surprised if the search had gone the other way after all…

* * *

“Adrien?”

“Yes Sabrina?”

“Should I learn how to fight?”

Adrien paused at that. He seemed to think for a moment before, “That depends. If you _want_ to learn how to fight, then sure. But you really shouldn’t feel like you _have_ to. Keeping everyone safe, that’s _our_ job.” He shrugged. “But it’s your choice I guess. I’m not gonna stop you doing what you want.”

Sabrina nodded, noting how lucky she’d been in being chosen by her God and Goddesses in particular.

* * *

All of the advice they’d gotten from people had been weird, like they were trying to help with a different problem entirely.

The encyclopedia had failed them. The magazines in the store had failed them. Television had failed them.

The library was their last hope of finding out if someone knew how this worked.

* * *

“Sabrina?”

The girl spun with a squeak. “Umm… Hi guys.”

“I didn’t know you spent time here.”

“I usually don’t, I’m just… studying something.”

“Oh, us too, what are you here for?”

“Ah. Religion.”

“Oh, okay.”

“What about you three? Maybe I’ve seen something that can help.”

“Re… Rel…” Marinette looked annoyed with herself. She turned and Chloe handed her a slip of paper that Adrien had been using while he browsed the card catalogue. “Re-lay-shun-ship Die-na-mix.” She pronounced carefully.

“Huh. What’s that?”

“The study of how people act around each other.” Adrien commented without looking up.

“Wait, that’s a thing?”

“Apparently.” Chloe scoffed. “Honestly, we’ve got _one_ question, and it _has_ to have come up before, but for some reason _nobody_ knows what the answer is.”

Sabrina winced. “Sorry I don’t know either.”

The blonde girl waved her concern off. “You’re a kid, you get a pass. The _grown-ups_ on the other hand…”


	16. Chapter 16

It was, naturally, Audrey’s fault in the end.

She was at yet another pointless charity event when a couple walked up and began thanking her for Cleo’s helping their daughter. She quickly set them straight of course, explaining with a sniff that the ungrateful brat was almost entirely out of her influence by this point, and almost definitely a lost cause.

She regaled them with her woes about the bad crowd her own blood had fallen in with, decrying each of the ruffians at length, and at the end of the night, went home congratulating herself on a job well done and slept cradled by the knowledge that she had struck a blow against the little demons’ machinations.

The Lavillants on the other hand, walked away from the conversation suitably horrified.

* * *

“…Kids? Why is there chocolate sauce everywhere? Including the ceiling?”

“Papa, look out! It’s alive!”

“What the – Kim, why were you cooking?”

“It wasn’t me this time!”

“Ah, sorry M. Dupain, this one’s my fault.”

“Right. Kim? I apologize. Juleka? You’re not allowed to cook anymore.”

“Yes M. Dupain.”

“Good. Adrien, Chloe? Help me get to the supply closet and let’s pray that _this one_ doesn’t eat mops.”

“Yes Papa Tom.”

* * *

Sabrina fidgeted. She had just put the last touches on her records. Everything she had been able to gather on those she worshipped had been written down, but… it didn’t feel like it was enough. And no new task was forthcoming, and she knew she could do this whether she was good enough or not, because they wouldn’t have chosen her if she couldn’t, but she’d learned everything she could, and everything she knew about The Three was written down, and…

Wait…

Oh…

Of course.

With the Chronicle of Three up to date, it was time for her to document the Lesser Pantheon and how they supported The Three. Yes, that made perfect sense.

* * *

The first two private investigators had returned their deposit and not said a word about what they found. The third one had laughed in their faces and told them word had spread and _nobody_ was going to help them.

Which meant they had to do the legwork themselves.

Which was why it was six months between the fateful encounter with Audrey Bourgeois and them finally tracking their daughter to a ship on the Seine.

Nevertheless, they now found themselves on the riverbank, arguing with a particularly odious woman whose very _existence_ seemed to scream debauchery and impropriety. The very thought of their precious flower being exposed to such and influence was enough to make the wife shudder.

Eventually the husband had endured enough that he was justified in pushing past the harlot and starting to storm up the gangplank.

“You don’t want to do that.”

* * *

A ripple.

* * *

“Mama? Papa?” Adrien poked his head into the study. “Umm… I think something just happened and we might need to Run again, and I just wanted to let you know so you don’t worry?”

His bodyguard was suddenly looking extremely worried.

Gabriel set down his teacup and settled in his chair. “Is one of your friends in trouble?”

“I’m not sure? It’s really just a feeling.”

The Gorilla’s nervousness was increasing incrementally.

Emilie closed her eyes and took a breath, steeling herself for what she knew she had to do. “Then go. Take care of your friends, be safe.” She opened her eyes to meet her son’s gaze. “And come back to us.”

“Always.”

And the terminal Runaway left, while the man charged with his safety tried with increasing desperation to get an explanation.

* * *

Marinette was at home, laughing at one of her mother’s stories when suddenly she wasn’t.

“Maman…”

“Is something wrong dear?”

A nod.

“…Do you need to Run?”

Another nod.

“…Any idea when you’ll be back?”

A headshake. “I’m sorry.”

“Marinette.” Sabine reached over to grasp her daughter’s chin and tilt her head up until they were looking each other in the eye. “Never apologize for doing what you have to to protect your friends.”

“But I know it hurts you and Papa when I Run.”

“No Marinette. It worries us a little, and we definitely _miss_ you, but we understand why you need to go. It hasn’t hurt us in a very long time.”

“How long?”

“Well it never hurt us very _much_ , we were too scared at first for that, and then we found out you were taking care of Adrien, which was entirely different that just running away from us; but it definitely stopped hurting at all… probably around the time we met Mme. Bourgeois actually.”

* * *

Nino let out a strangled “Mom.”

She immediately looked him over and finding no visible source for the pain, closed her eyes in resignation. “Your friends?”

“They need me.”

And she refused to let her thought of _‘but I need you too’_ slip out. She refused. She was proud and a little in awe of how deep her son’s loyalties ran, and _she would not force him to pick sides!_

She forced herself to keep the tears in until he was gone.

* * *

When Kim’s mother came to get him for dinner and found an empty room with an open window, she sighed and decided to call around before she did anything resembling panicking.

* * *

> _Dear Kubdel Family,_
> 
> _And Jalil,_
> 
> _I apologize for the abruptness of my departure, but the clan of my choice – to which I have given my oath and my bond – stands in need of me. I do at least stand assured of your understanding in this, as it was from you that I learned blood is thicker than water._
> 
> _– Alix Kubdel_

“Jalil, had Aliens abducted your sister, I sincerely doubt they would have taken time to make her write a note.”

“They didn’t abduct her, she’s _one of them_! And they recalled her for some reason! Probably a debriefing, which means they’re _planning something_!”

“Oh not this again…”

* * *

Sabrina wrote a note.

Then she remembered her father remained sadly uninitiated.

So she burned that one and was trying to decide what to write when the phone rang.

> _Dear Dad, Marinette Called._

* * *

It remained where it had slept for centuries, even now that it had awakened.

It could sense its caller, and the acrid bitterness that was her fear.

It was tempered though, controlled and addressed, rather than denial or panic. This was good.

It could sense others as well, each of her bondmates responding to the danger. Resolution, determination, steadfastness, faith… good, good.

She was young yet, but… if such danger was presenting itself already, it might be needful to change the order of things a bit, grant her its powers piecemeal rather than wholesale.

It allowed itself to hope though, because there was a rare strength there and it was unsurprised that she had called to it loud enough to awaken it from its slumber, even from so far away.

And that spoke to great things. In addition to its hope, it allowed itself to believe that this particular her had the capacity to be a Her.

And maybe The One, but it wouldn’t let itself think much on that. Not yet, maybe not ever.

For now it was simply content that it had a her again.

* * *

“And you don’t feel this is a cause for concern!?”

“It wasn’t like that Master.”

“Yeah, if it was a call to arms, we wouldn’t have said anything, but this…”

“Return to your fortresses and secure places. Return to your hides and secret places. Return to your palaces and bright places. Return to your safe places and prepare for the coming storm.”

There was a moment of silence as everyone tried to process that Fluff had just gotten out four coherent sentences. Consecutively.

“Right.” Master Fu took a breath. “First, Kaalki is going to figure out which habitable place on the planet is furthest from France. Then, we are going to go there and we are going to hide. And then… then I am going to try and figure out _what is going on in Paris_.”

* * *

It should surprise exactly no one that Rose’s male genetic donor, upon trying to force his way onto the Liberty, found himself staring down the business end of a harpoon gun (Anarka had them for a reason after all).

“You don’t want to do that.”

What might surprise some is who, exactly, was holding said harpoon gun.

“You won’t like how it ends.” And mild, even keeled, soft spoken, _stable_ Luka might as well have been commenting on the weather.

“Young man, what _exactly_ do you think you are doing with that?”

The guitarist’s lips twitched. “Repelling boarders.”

“Look here _child_ ;” The man’s ‘pleasant’ demeanor dissolved in a snarl, “ _I_ am the adult here, which means _you_ listen to _me_. Now get _out_ of my way before you accidentally hurt someone playing with that.”

“Oh, I know this can hurt someone. I also know _which way it’s pointing_.”

Anarka decided to intervene before her son found it necessary to skewer the man. “You know, I have yet to see any proof that either of you are _actually_ anyone’s parents here. There are a lot of things I’m willing to do, but being an accessory to an unwilling kidnapping ain’t one of ‘em.”

“Would you prefer we get the police involved?”

“Sure! That should help clear everything up right nicely!”

Not having a response to that, the man simply growled at both Couffaines before storming off towards his car, his wife slipping into his wake and preparing to work herself into a high dudgeon as well.

Once they were gone, Anarka turned to her son. “Good job there.”

“Thanks Mom.”

“You need to go now.”

“You gonna be okay?”

“Who, me? Bah! I can handle the party that’s gonna be here, no problem. But only if I know you kids are alright. So I need you to take your sisters and Run.”

“Alright Mom. Love you.”

“I love you too Luka. All of you.”

* * *

Angelina smiled sweetly at Rose, who was currently in the middle of a pile on the Clubhouse floor. “Ah, Rose, would you happen to know their names?”

The girl blinked, then told her. “Why’d you wanna know?”

The ghost’s bright smile never wavered. “Oh, no reason.”

* * *

Max showed up the next day, slightly annoyed. “Anyone want to tell me why I didn’t know about this until the other parents called my mom?”

It was a good question.

It was duly considered.

Max’s tattoo went on his right side, in the soft part between his ribs and his waist.

* * *

“…And you’re saying all three kids just ran away?”

“Well they probably called some of their friends, but yes.”

The officer paused. He pulled out a picture. “Ma’am? Do you know this girl?”

“Marinette? Of course, she’s one of my daughter’s classmates.”

The officer sighed. It was a telling sigh, and Anarka was impressed, but refused to be jealous, never mind that she’d been three times the girl’s age before she’d had that much reputation.

“Right. Right. Pack it up boys! They’re with the Three Terrors!”

There were mixed responses to that, but the most immediately relevant was when Rose’s female genetic donor started sputtering. “Wha-What!? Y-You’re just going to-to let them _go_!?”

“Lady, we’ve got more important things to do than look for kids we already know aren’t gonna let us find ‘em.”

* * *

“I think I should invite Mme. Lahiffe over for coffee soon, she sounded a bit strained on the phone.”

Tom nodded. “It doesn’t seem like M. Kubdel called anyone at all, that might need looking into.”

“I’ll leave that to you then. Shall we both check in on Gabriel and Emilie later?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

And thusly, the bakers did plot their familiar plots.

After all, someone had to take care of the parents when the children Ran Away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not so much that I neglected to give the Lavillants names as that I decided they didn't deserve them.


	17. Chapter 17

It had started with shadows. Nothing like what was going on now, just… flickers, out of the corner of their eyes. Then it had been electrical fluctuations. From there it had escalated.

Rapidly.

Their names, whispered in a way that might have seemed intimate if it weren’t so sinister. The televisions and radios turning themselves on and jumping to static. Softly echoing music that came from nowhere.

And then a message written in blood on the _other_ side of the bathroom mirror.

The shadows were alive now, twisting and writhing. Doors were slamming open and shut on their own, locks acting up just as much, and most importantly _not leading where they were supposed to_. There was a skittering from creatures in the walls, and whatever they’d left in the upstairs hallway announced itself with heavy panting and howls and _snarls_ that nothing should be able to make. The kitchen knives had embedded themselves in the pantry door and the china and silver were holding a feast in the dining hall that stopped cold as soon as the door was opened. Mad laughter echoed through the vents while _something_ burbled from the plumbing. Far, far too many eyes blinked out from the sitting room fireplace, and the vacuum cleaner was straight-up _possessed_.

And now here they were, trapped in their own foyer, with the doors suddenly the wrong way round and locked from the other side while something came towards them heralded by steady footsteps and a soft dripping.

A girl finally stepped around the corner, face completely shadowed and wearing a gown of blood. She called them by name and one of the pair whimpered out a “What do you _want_?”

Lightning struck and the foyer briefly went dark as pitch, despite the clear early afternoon sky that was visible in every window.

Cold, sharp eyes finally acknowledged them. Her visceral attire sluiced off of her as she stepped out of herself in a way that hurt the eyes and damaged the mind, leaving the carpet red and her in a pale gray dress that left her bare feet and the slightest hint of her ankles exposed.

“Rose Lavillant is not your plaything. She is not your porcelain doll, or your misbehaving pet. You have no claim on her.” A single step, a crystalline chime. “She is _ours_. Our friend, our playmate, our family, our _Rose_.” A second step, a deep ring that left the air tasting of silver. “And she. Is. Protected.”

And then the phantasmal horror **_s̸̛̛͙̲͍͓̩̩̗̥̘̰͂̑͌̄͋̑̈́̈́͗̌̍͝͝m̸̛̰̜͎̝͇̏̉͑͐̐̚ͅi̵̢̨͚͓̘͍͒̔ḽ̴̡̥͉̍̒e̸̖̳̻̪̟̟̠̜̒̄̇̍̾͛̕d̴̨͈͓͇̲̦͕̫̪̝̥̄̎̓ͅ_**.

* * *

Luka had pointed a harpoon gun at Rose’s only-guardians-on-a-legal-technicality on a Friday afternoon.

On Monday, Nathaniel got home from a lonely day at school to find his friends trying to rescue him through his bedroom window.

“Since you were the only one who didn’t show up we got worried.”

“How was I supposed to know something was wrong?”

“Everyone else did! Well, except Max, but that was because he didn’t…”

“Seriously? He helped us design the thing, how does he not have one yet!?”

Nathaniel’s tattoo went on the inside of his left wrist, right where a painter’s palette would rest.

* * *

By and large they’d been left mostly alone since that one nightmarish day, but there were a few things that made it clear they hadn’t won yet.

They had changed out the flooring in the foyer three times now, but no matter what they did, as soon as they turned around it was red again. Both rugs had met the same fate.

A symbol of some sort had carved itself into the door to Rose’s bedroom. They were unable to open said door, and attempts to change which room she slept in invariably resulted in the house shuffling which doors led where so that their efforts were undone.

And of course there was the… girl. She’d show up every now and then; behind them in the mirror, or a glimpse in their peripherals.

So no, it was clear that these unsavory influences were still very much involved with their little darling.

This would not stand.

* * *

“Short with pink hair. You Gramps’ new student?”

She forced herself not to twitch at the comment about her height. “Louise Francoise Le Blanc de La Valliere, at your service.” The curtsy she gave was slightly too deep, but she somehow doubted this boy would know he was being subtly mocked.

He’d stilled though. “That’s a weighty name.”

“It’s been passed through the family.”

“Well, come on then, let’s introduce you to the geezer.”

“Are you not going to introduce yourself then?”

“Huh? Oh. Saito. Hiraga Saito.”

She hummed. “I’m curious Hiraga Saito, why is a Japanese magical clan in Paris?”

“No clue.” Wait, what? “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve asked, but the old man never gives a straight answer. Just starts waxing poetic about a rabbit.” A pause. “Then again knowing him it’s probably just about all the nude beaches France has.”

Ah. Well then.

Louise stiffened her spine and strode after the boy. Hiraga Saito might be rather disappointing on the whole, but frankly she’d take what she could get at this point.

* * *

It was clear at this point that the kids would be gone for at least another week, so Roger had decided to take care of Sabrina’s laundry for her.

He’d long since grown out of the fiascos with the washer and dryer, so it wasn’t until he was bringing the clean clothes back to his daughter’s room that things went weird.

He opened the closet to hang up the shirts he was carrying. He blinked. He slowly closed the door. He opened it again and… nope, still there.

Right.

Durand over in cult crime still owed him that favor, right?

* * *

The eighth “Paranormal Expert” of the month was currently attempting to drive her out.

Angelina stuck around just long enough to determine that this particular Medium was one of the frauds before she wandered off to rearrange the homeowners’ bedroom furniture.

* * *

Louise almost laughed when the old man said he only had time for one apprenticeship and so she’d have to fight his grandson to see who he’d teach.

And then she heard the rasp of steel from her left.

“Sorry Louise, but I can’t afford to lose this.”

She jumped away as she turned to face the boy who’d drawn a cavalry saber – where had he been carrying that? She flicked her wrist and brought her wand into her hand. “Bold barking from such a lazy dog.”

He laughed. “You’re not wrong. I’m pretty pathetic. That’s why I’ve got Derf here. But I still can’t afford to lose out on this training. Sorry.”

Her eyes narrowed. “That’s a living sword.”

A nod. “Derflinger isn’t one of the big names like Excalibur or Ascalon or Kusanagi, his wielders aren’t kings or legends. We’re weaklings, all of us.” The boy met her gaze, brightness fleeing his blue eyes and leaving them steely. “Somewhere out there, I’ve got a partner. I haven’t met her yet, but she’s gonna get into all kinds of trouble. And if I want to keep her alive, I’m gonna need all the damn help I can get. Because that’s what it takes to wield Derf. So I can’t lose out on the training I need to keep her safe. You understand, right?”

“Of course I understand. After all, I’m here because I have people I need to protect too.”

* * *

“Right, so the first thing I’m going to say is ‘don’t panic.’ Teens and pre-teens setting up shrines to celebrities and classmates is actually far more common than you’d think, and in this case it’s sort of both, so while she’s a _little_ young, this actually isn’t all that abnormal.”

“Okay.”

“That said, it’s _those three_. Do you know if any of their other friends have shown this sort of behavior?”

“No. I’ve asked the other responsible parents and they didn’t find anything like this when they looked.”

“Okay, that’s good. So. Based on what she’s written here, Sabrina’s decided that the three terrors are Gods of Chaos who’ve decided to take a spin as humans so they can better understand mortals. Meanwhile the rest of their friends are apparently lesser gods and mortals who they’ve decided to ascend.”

“Right. So my daughter’s starting a cult.”

“Ehhhh… I’m… not actually prepared to refute any of her claims…”

“…”

“Right, so. Setting aside the fact that I’m not entirely sure she’s _wrong_ , this isn’t as bad as it could be.”

“How so?”

“Well for one thing, it’s those three. Most cults that deify people don’t have the object of their worship actually there to tell them that something’s a bad idea and the few that do… tend to not be focused on the sorts of people who would. So you don’t really need to worry about Sabrina sacrificing virgins to her gods on an altar of bones if for no other reason than that her gods would be upset by that.”

“…That makes sense. So what should I do?”

“Talk to her about it. _Don’t_ make it a confrontation, but… well it’s sort of like anything else really. Just invite her to share with you like you would if you were asking about her school or friends.”

“Alright. Anything else?”

“There are other things I could list, but being a good parent covers most of them. Also, I’m going to go ahead and send some documents and information your way to pass on to her.”

“I thought she didn’t need the troubled teen resources?”

“Ah… I was… actually thinking more along the lines of how to get a religion formally and legally recognized?”

* * *

- _A wizard is never late, nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to._

He looked between the note and the encrypted file from the Bugs Bunny USB.

>>Who are you?_

He’d already tried every variation on his name he could think of… Hmm…

>>Who are you?

>>The Owl

>>…

>>ACCESS DENIED

>>…

>>Who are you?

Well then. Honestly, if he hadn’t found them on his bedside table, he’d think this was meant for someone else.

Except.

This wasn’t the first time he’d received a rabbit themed delivery. Information, equipment, schematics, and even a tip about a student whose home life he should look into. Whoever was sending him these things was clearly trying to help him, and this wasn’t even the first time there’d been a puzzle or test either (The scavenger hunt across Paris rooftops hadn’t been fun, but had highlighted several things he needed to improve).

He’d thought that his mysterious lapin beneficiary was trying to help him be The Owl, but… Hmm…

He’d have to think on this one.

* * *

Alix had stopped by her house to pick up some more clothes. Her dad was probably at work, though Jalil should have been home at this time on a Saturday… based on the open photo album on the kitchen table he’d left sort of suddenly, so probably high school drama or something.

This album was familiar. It was from her dad’s college days, him and a group of his friends that included her mother. The set of photos it was open to was from a Hawaiian vacation they’d taken, and the sight of her dad’s obvious discomfort at wearing a floral shirt and lei always made her giggle.

She idly flipped through.

A group shot in front of a volcano. Her parents and another woman in front of some ruins. Her Mom and some of her friends on a beach, lazing about in swimsuits. A guy she didn’t know perched on a floor lamp with a large spider at the base. A bunch of then dancing at –

Wait, what!?

She flipped back, stared, then gently maneuvered the photo she wanted out of the album; trying to make sure she was seeing it right.

She was.

Alix felt the blood drain from her face.


	18. Chapter 18

Angelina’s eyes widened as she felt the power pull at her. It was _decidedly_ uncomfortable, which was rather annoying really. Frowning, she decided to follow the pull. Might as well see who was trying to get her attention.

She found herself manifesting in a familiar hallway. “Oh?” an eyebrow went up. “Did you finally manage to find someone halfway competent?”

“Spirit.”

She turned to find an old priest. This… could be problematic. She did after all still consider herself a follower of the church, state of living notwithstanding. She was also aware that not every priest lived up to their oaths, but this one felt like he probably did and it wasn’t like he would be the first person Rose’s progenitors had lied to about this whole situation, and either way she had no intention of letting them take her again, which meant that things had the potential to get messy here.

“Father.” A respectful dip of the head, no reason to be rude after all. Not that she let her guard down of course.

“What is the cause of your unrest my daughter?”

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken Father, I am at peace.”

“Then why do you linger here?”

“As a protector. My unrest was set to rights by children that I have grown to care for, as they have for me. But the world is a dangerous place, and there are many things that might hurt them that cannot bring such harm to me.”

“Then why bring torment upon this house? Upon these people?”

“These _people_ ,” she spat the word, “Are a threat to the wellbeing of one of my charges.”

“You refer to the young Rose.”

“Yes.”

“You are aware that they are her parents?”

“I’m aware that they should have been.”

“I see.” He seemed saddened. “You will not back down?”

“I will not let them hurt her.”

“Then please forgive me for what I must do.” He was ringing as genuine to her Other senses, so she really had no problem with that. “The Dead have no place amongst the Living. It is time for you to move on my daughter.”

“In my proper place or no, they are my friends. I will protect them.” She called upon the house’s shadows. There was no way she could win this, she could feel the power gathering behind the man, hear the silver singing in the crucifix he pulled from his robes.

But the one thing she could do was go down swinging. So.

His Faith crashed into her like a hammer blow. She could feel his belief, his conviction that the best thing for her to do was move on.

She couldn’t deny the appeal. She had been dead for centuries after all; a part of her did long for what came next. But.

Someone had to take care of the kids. And she _would not_ abandon them. Not without a fight. Not while she had any power left.

On the door to her right, a carved emblem began to glow. Her own power gave out, caved under the force of the priest’s prayers, but before his will could reach her properly, she found herself pulled again, dragged into the symbol in the wood…

And getting spat out of the same symbol on her headstone.

Huh.

Well then, that was new.

* * *

Louise braced herself, panting. She and Saito had managed to fight each other into exhausted draws every day for three weeks. He wasn’t in much better shape than she was right now, so it looked like the pattern was holding today as well. She could feel a trickle of sweat trying to run into her eye but refused to acknowledge it – that would give Saito an opening she couldn’t afford right now, with his right hand off his sword, numbed from where he’d blocked one of her explosions earlier.

“As much as I appreciate the youthful vigor here and respect the initiative you two seem to have taken with your sparring, I do have other things I need you to do.”

They both turned to look at the old man. “What?”

“Well I do like the dedication, but my apprentices do need to do more than beat each other senseless, you know?”

“Appren…”

“…tices?”

“Yes? Oh dear, you haven’t managed to concuss each other, have you?”

“Grandfather.” Saito’s voice was far too calm for a boy with that expression and a sword in his hand. “We were under the impression that you only had the time for _one_ apprentice.”

“Oh don’t be ridiculous my boy! I only have time for one apprentice _ship_. You two will just have to share instruction time with each other.”

Louise’s eye twitched. “And… when _exactly_ was this decided?”

“The first day of course, once you two made it clear that you were evenly matched. Are you quite sure you’re not concussed my dear? You’re usually quicker on the uptake than this.”

At the very least, Louise mused as she felt a black rage across the room that mirrored her own, she knew she could work with her fellow apprentice in _taking retribution._

* * *

“Go away.”

The man in the funny clothes blinked at her. “I’m sorry?”

Except he wasn’t. They all knew what he’d tried to do to Angelina, and he’d been snooping around the Liberty, and then most of their other friends’ houses, and now he was here at the bakery.

So Adrien growled out again, angry as he’d ever been that this man _dared_ to try and hurt his friends. “Go away.”

“You’re not welcome here.” And there was Chloe, coming up on the other side.

“Ah, I’m looking for–”

“Us.” And there was Marinette, slipping out from the back with a little flour in her hair. “You’re looking for us or you wouldn’t be here. Just like you were looking for Juleka, and Nino, and Max, and Kim. Only difference is, we’re letting you find us.”

“So that we can tell you to go away,” Chloe picked up. “And leave us and our friends alone.”

“Miss, your friends are–”

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” and Adrien isn’t quite certain what that sound that came from his throat was, but he doesn’t think 'whisper' is the right word. “Try to tell us what our friends are. We already know them better than you.”

Marinette nodded. “We won’t let you hurt Angelina. And we won’t let you take Rose back to her parents so _they_ can hurt her again.”

He frowned. “Young Rose’s parents have never harmed her.”

Chloe scoffed. “They keep trying to make her cut off bits of herself so she can fit in their cute little boxes. Don’t pretend that isn’t hurting her.”

“Perhaps I should speak with your parents.”

“Yes. Perhaps you should. Perhaps you should have done so several days ago.” Oh. So _that’s_ what an angry Mama Sabine looked like. Good to know. “Perhaps that’s what you should have _started_ by doing, no?”

* * *

“Louise!” There was a joyful squeal as a small blonde torpedo rammed into Saito’s friend and fellow apprentice.

“Wha – Chloe! Are the other two around here too?”

“Yep!”

“Up here!”

Huh. He was fairly certain that was not meant to be walked on. “Umm…”

“Ah, right. Saito, these are Marinette, Adrien, and Chloe, I’ve mentioned them. Guys, this is Saito.”

And there were suddenly two pairs of bright blue starry eyes _very close_ to Saito’s face. “Are you Louise’s boyfriend?”

There was a strangled squawk. “No! He’s not my boyfriend!” Well then. Ouch. “No. Marinette, Adrien, Chloe, all three of you listen to me – _listen to me_ – he has someone else already, and neither of us wants to hurt the other one _or her_.” Ah, well. That made it sting a bit less at least. “So. No. Matchmaking. No schemes, or plots, or plans, or… or… or _anything_! Saito and I are _just friends_!”

The kids were pouting now, and Saito suddenly felt like a very large predator had just decided he wouldn’t be a very tasty snack after all.

* * *

“So that was them, huh?”

A few hours had passed and the sky was aflame as the two teens walked along the Seine. They’d spent time catching up with or getting to know each other. Mentioning a cantrip that Chloe’d finally worked out after what was apparently a bit of a struggle. When they’d asked where she’d been the last few weeks, Louise had told them about her apprenticeship, and mentioned that her fighting skills were getting better.

He would’ve expected more excitement at that, but… the kids had just acknowledged it. Serious about it in a way that wasn’t the cute version he’d have expected from ten year olds. They’d talked about video games and Saito had recommended a couple, as well as an anime or two he thought they might like.

Adrien had gleefully shown off his tattoo when the topic came up, which was…

Well.

“Yeah, that was them.”

…

“I’ll help you.”

“What?”

“You’re right; they need people looking out for them. I’d like to help if I can.”

Louise paused, tilted her head, nodded. “Then I’ll help you too. With finding your partner I mean.”

“It’s a deal then.”

* * *

_…ultimately reaching an agreement that the spirit would cease aggressions so long as the girl remained safe…_

_…In sum, the various parties involved and connected to those involved seem to be neutral, but it should be noted that they are **not** pacifistic. Official recommendation is that we leave them be for the time being, unless they show signs of increasing hostility…_

_…attached files on the individuals involved who appear to have awakened potential, as well as overviews of other persons of note…_

As there was nothing particularly sensitive included in the communication, the report on a group of foreign individuals with unique traits and skills was forwarded to AISE per protocol. A courtesy that the Vatican extended to their closest physical neighbors in situations where it cost them nothing.

The reports was pushed through the bureaucracy (as most paperwork is) and eventually found itself in the specific department that dealt with things most people would prefer to pretend never existed to begin with. The department’s lead witch (Who also happened to be a female magic wielder) was reading through the report when she came across a face she half-recognized attached to a name she recognized half of.

Well then.

Apparently her distant cousin had not been so completely useless as they’d all believed.

She wondered if the crone had seen this coming. Probably. Damn the woman, laughing up her sleeves at all of them no doubt.

Still, it was naught now. This wayward bit of their legacy had been found.

They would just have to bring it home.

* * *

COME 

Rose bolted upright in bed, eyes blown wide as she stared to the northwest.

Juleka groaned from where she’d landed on the floor.

* * *

“…and so… yeah.”

Marinette swallowed. “And your dad definitely told you this was your mom?”

“Uh-huh. And I mean, well…” Alix gestured.

Chloe scowled. “Right. We’re going to go talk with him. Together.”

Adrien nodded. “We can ask him if he knows what’s going on here.”

“And… and if he doesn’t?”

Chloe’s eyes were stormy. “He’d better.” Adrien put a hand on her shoulder

Marinette wrapped Alix in a hug. “If your dad doesn’t know what’s going on we’ll figure something else out – but we’ll find out what’s going on here, promise. Okay?”

“Okay.”


	19. Chapter 19

“Dad?” Alix knew she was hesitating, and she _hated_ it. Adrien and Chloe were just outside the door in case she needed backup, and Marinette had said something about the vents, and if this turned out to be something she needed to run from, she _knew_ her friends would have her back, but… this was scary. “Can we talk? About… about Mom?”

“I have a number of reports due.” Her father looked up at her and softened. “But I suppose none of them will be unduly damaged if I took twenty minutes or so to see to other things. Was there something specific you wanted to know?”

Ooooh, yes. Definitely. She couldn’t just ask that though. Instead she hopped up into one of the chairs facing the desk. “So I was looking through the photo albums and noticed something.” She gently set the photograph down facing her dad. “Do… Do you know if there was a story behind Mom’s tattoo?”

And now he looked confused. “Alix, your mother didn’t have any tattoos.”

Umm. “Uh…” She gestured.

He looked at the picture, frowned, and then went back and forth between her and the photograph a few times before his face lit with realization. “Alix? Were you under the impression that this was your mother?” He tapped… the woman who apparently _wasn’t_ Mom.

“Yes?”

“Ah.” He glanced back and forth a few times again. “Yes, I suppose I can understand the confusion. Sweetheart, _this_ is your mother.” He tapped the other woman in the photo. “This,” he tapped the familiar woman with the terrifyingly familiar tattoo on her ankle, “Is her college roommate and best friend, Alix.” He gave her a meaningful look and a gentle smile. “We named you after her. She is also your godmother. As a matter of fact, your mother and I never would have…” He frowned again. “I am just realizing that I’ve never told you or your brother how your mother and I met.” He sighed. “I have been negligent, haven’t I?”

Alix shook her head, eyes still wide. “No! You’re great! You always make time when it’s important, and–”

“And it is likely going to be one of your friend’s parents who holds you as the realization that I never managed to convey who your mother was settles in and the shock wears off.”

“I… yeah, I’ll probably go fall apart at Marinette’s later.”

“Do let her parents know I appreciate their filling in where I find I fall short.”

“Sure Dad. Before that though, how _did_ you and Mom meet?”

“Ah, well now _that_ incident was _entirely_ the fault of Alix – the other Alix that is. We were a scant three weeks into the term, and…”

And Alix listened with rapt attention, knowing it would be important one day. After all, she might not know how, or why, but this wasn’t even the first time the concept had dropped into their lives.

And really, there was only one way for someone to wind up with that name, face and tattoo.

* * *

The breakdown happened an hour or so later, in the apartment over the bakery, with hot chocolate, and cinnamon rolls, and fluffy quilts.

At one point while they were away from the others, Sabine paused in her roll-glazing to ask, “Marinette, do we need to…”

Her daughter (A part of Sabine wept that she hadn’t needed to finish, that this was something that her daughter had _thought_ about. (The rest of her was proud.)) shook her head. “M. Kubdel’s not bad, not like Rose’s parents or Mme. Bourgeois. He’s… He’s like Adrien’s papa, just... not as much? He’s trying; he’s just… not good at being a dad. I don’t think anybody ever taught him how. But I think he knows that at least? He said he was grateful you were doing what he couldn’t for her at least.”

And so Sabine nodded, and quietly determined to make sure Alix knew she was always welcome, and considered what it might mean that she was no longer quite certain just how many children she had.

* * *

“Hello?”

“…”

“I’d say it’s nice to hear your voice – and it is – but I also know you wouldn’t break radio silence lightly. What’s wrong?”

“…”

“I’m sorry, _what_?”

“…”

“So they know then.”

“…”

“How did they even find out? I thought they stopped paying attention to me years ago.”

“…”

“I see.”

“…”

“If you feel the need to mention this conversation… Tell them they have _no idea_ what they’re dealing with. Tell them that pushing this will finally break them. Tell them that they’re so much _more_ than they could ever _hope_ to handle. And then tell them they’ll only get the one warning.”

“…”

“I _am_ a little worried about the collateral damage, and about how far they’ll push them to go. But if they do push this, there’s only one way it’ll end.”

“…”

“Yeah. You _take care of yourself_ , hear me?”

“…”

“Heh, yeah. Tell Nonna I said hello and thanks.”

“…”

“Oh, I’m sure she’ll know.”

“…”

“Well, I did seem to have a lot of her attention for some reason.”

“…”

“Yeah, you too. Love you Little Sister.”

“…”

* * *

They knew the old tales. They knew that ignoring these kinds of calls never ended well.

That’s not to say they were stupid about it. They were planners and protectors. They knew the value of scouting reports.

And they had a friend with a teleporter.

They bounced around a few places to triangulate the source of the summons. They popped a few of them in ahead of the others.

No ambush appeared. No trap sprung.

They brought the rest in.

Rose arrived at long last in Margny-les-Compiegne.

* * *

“This way. We’re close.” She pointed to where she felt the pull coming from.

They formed up around her. Luka had his guitar and a thousand songs at the tips of his fingers, while Juleka was a step behind her, impossibly shadowed with a palmed stiletto. Marinette, Adrien, and Chloe were in a loose triangle spread through the group. Kim and Alix had baseball bats and she wasn’t sure _what_ the American boy had in that squirt gun but he wouldn’t let anyone else touch it, so it was obviously _something_.

The pattern continued, her friends surrounding her, ready for a fight as she led them into what may well be a trap.

They walked a ways.

The pull led into a copse of trees, and then to a hollow where the moonlight danced strangely. It wasn’t in the middle, not quite. Off center, a little towards the back and right of where they’d entered, a spot of no particular note, not even a stray beam of light.

Just a rough “D” shape, half-buried and made of rusted metal or stone, nested in a tangle of roots that had strayed from the trees.

None of the others even noticed until she pointed it out.

Nino poked it with his hockey stick. Then his hands. He shrugged, determining it to be safe enough for her to touch.

She knelt, carefully spreading her skirt around her. This felt important. She took a deep breath.

“You don’t have to do this.” Juleka.

“Actually, I think I do.”

Rose reached out, slowly, but her hands were steady. She grasped the Artifact that had called her here.

The world fragmented.

* * *

He’d been thinking about it for a while now. One of his teachers had recently mentioned the results of an essay they’d assigned their students on their life goals.

And the fact he’d been forced to face was that The Owl… was childish. At the end of the day, it was an _imitation_ , and… that wasn’t the right way to do this.

It was a bitter pill, the realization that he couldn’t answer the question because he hadn’t grown into himself yet.

And he didn’t want to leave the ideals he’d had back when he’d first dreamt this up behind either…

But.

He’d had two friends growing up, and usually they’d played as Knight Owl and Sparrow against a single (rotating) villain, but… every so often, they’d play three heroes together against some imagined opponent.

Omega Girl was out for obvious reasons, and the best he’d ever come up with himself was Capeman, which was actually rather embarrassing… but… well, he doubted his old friend would begrudge him taking up the name.

It had been some time since he’d thought of them, he’d have to see how they were doing these days.

>>Who are you?

>>RAZORWING

>>…

>>Verifying…

>>Checking timestamps…

>>Accessing…

>>Access Granted

>>Hello M. Damocles.

>>Your help is required.

And then an address, with a date and time.

Well then.

Looks like his Saturday night was going to be busy.

* * *

A white void.

“Hello?”

HELLO.

“Are you the one who was calling for me?”

YES.

“Do you need my help?”

I REQUIRE A WIELDER. ROSE LAVILLANT, YOU QUALIFY.

“I’m sorry, but who are you?”

I HAVE HAD MANY NAMES, FEW OF WHICH YOU WOULD RECOGNIZE. I AM ONE OF THOSE OF MY KIND WHOSE NAME CHANGES WITH EVERY ITERATION OF THEMSELVES. MOST RECENTLY, I WAS KNOWN AS DEVOUEMENT, THOUGH YOU WOULD LIKELY KNOW ME BETTER BY MY TITLE IN THAT ITERATION.

“I would?”

MY PREVIOUS SELF WAS KNOWN COMMONLY AS THE SWORD OF SAINT CATHERINE DE FIERBOIS. HOWEVER, AS I HAVE BEGUN TO PASS TO A NEW WIELDER, THAT SELF IS NO LONGER ME.

“A new wielder?”

YOU.

“O-oh. I see.”

There was a ball of light in front of her now.

THE TRANSITION IS ALMOST COMPLETE. ALL THAT IS REQUIRED NOW IS A NAME.

“A… a name? Whose name?”

MINE. MY NEW NAME MUST BE GIFTED, AND YOU, ROSE, MUST GIVE IT ME.

“Ah.”

Well, that was something she could probably do.

REACH OUT AND CLAIM ME. DECLARE MY NAME UNTO THE WORLD.

She reached out and grasped the ball of light, trying to think of a good name for a sword that wasn’t too –

Oh.

Oh.

This was…

_Oh._

It was so much more than just a sword, and…

All of history and…

So much duty…

So many friends…

So much loss…

So much _loneliness_ …

Her parents had mentioned once what they’d planned to name her had she been born a boy. It seemed a fitting name for what she was now deciding was her second brother.

“BRIAR.”

* * *

It had happened in an instant. Their friend had grabbed the object stuck in the dirt, and then exploded. The rest of them had been thrown clear as a massive swirl of rose flames engulfed her, and then…

They parted, and snuffed an instant later, and there was Rose, holding a sword. The blade was detailed with intertwined thorny vines, the crossguard a pair of leaves with a flower blooming in the center, and a closed bud on the pommel. She looked at them and smiled, and things were right as her grip loosened and revealed the hilt to be more vines, though there were no thorns to be seen on these.

“Hey guys, I made a new friend!”

A fancy twirl of the blade and Rose was wearing a new hairpin.

* * *

Okay, so things weren’t going well. Razorwing had a group of teenage girls behind him, a door in front that wasn’t going to hold for long, and rather a number of armed criminals on the other side who wanted their product back.

Then there was… a frankly _disturbing_ amount of gunfire. Maybe the police had shown up?

Silence. Silence was good, right?

_“One, two, three, four, set the girl against the Norns._

_“Five, six, seven, eight, this white rabbit’s never late.”_

Or not.

The lock clicked over. The door creaked slowly open.

“You’re clear Razorwing. Get those girls out before any of them wake up or something _else_ complicates things.”

The footsteps of their still unseen ally receded.

Well. Never let it be said he let an opportunity like this pass by.

“Alright then. All of you buddy up. Grab anything you can use as a weapon on the way, but only if you can get to it easily. We’re moving now, and we’re not stopping until we reach the nearest precinct. Everyone ready? Here we go.”

He’d set aside for the moment the fact that he was quietly furious that herding children was apparently a crimefighting skill.


End file.
